The Common Denominator
by Vermillion Jay
Summary: Matthias, a typical high school nerd, lands himself a position as drummer in a trashy punk band, much to the lead singer, Lukas' dismay. The issue? He's totally gay for him. But what could an awkward geek and a mysterious punk with a reckless streak possibly have in common? Major revision in progress, edits will be made chapter-by-chapter. 4/23 CHAPTERS REVISED
1. It's Alright

**Resonance: a phenomenon that occurs when an external force drives another system to oscillate with greater amplitude at a specific preferential frequency.**

* * *

Matthias was cool in a geeky, book-smart, math genius sort of way – that is to say, he wasn't cool at all. He wasn't rebellious, he staunchly refused to break the rules, and he wasn't even particularly interesting by most people's standards. Of course, no one would assume differently of an eleventh grader taking AP calculus (along with an assortment of other advanced-placement classes), especially after seeing him in person. Going by the stereotypes, anyone who wore thick-rimmed glasses and a pocket protector was universally considered a nerd by those at the local high school.

And they would be absolutely correct. Matthias was the definition of nerdy.

But, that didn't necessarily mean that everything he did was nerdy.

He let his cooler side show within very strict parameters that followed the curfew set by his mother. Given those guidelines, he stayed after school every Thursday and Friday to participate in his personal favorite hobby. Sure, plenty of nerds stayed after school, but while most were at some sort of club, Matthias was in the music room. Said music room was occupied by various music groups for the first three days of the week, but the room was completely the remaining two, and Matthias took advantage of this opportunity to practice playing the drums.

Yes, drums. Not classical drums like the timpani or the triangle or whatever – he used a kit. It was probably the coolest hobby Matthias had, seeing as his other pastimes included playing fantasy video games, coding HTML, and trying to finally get the 8192 tile on 2048 (he'd gotten 4096 a few days after downloading the game, but the elusive 8192 was still frustratingly unachievable after months of relentless effort).

Anyhow, he would have played the drums at home, but he'd had to give away his own drum kit when his family had moved to the US from Denmark a week prior, so he was stuck with the run-down set purchased by the school, each drum head worn down and the snare permanently loose from student abuse – which sucked, but that was just the way it had to be until he saved up enough money to buy a new set of drums.

So, there he was one rainy Thursday afternoon, banging away as usual and just starting to get into the zone when Matthias heard the door swing open, slamming on the wall behind him. A resounding voice came cried out: "Oh my God, I love you!"

Well, that was a phrase Matthias had definitely never heard directed at him. It had been said so freely, too, with all the excitement of a teenage fangirl meeting a member of One Direction, or My Chemical Romance, or whoever the hell girls were into these days.

Matthias immediately ceased his playing and swiveled around on his seat to see the boy who had just professed his love for him, standing in the doorframe and staring at Matthias intently. He had a wiry frame that was accentuated by a pair of skinny jeans and a large tee-shirt. His eyes were rimmed with thick eyeliner, and each earlobe had a black, hollow gauge in it.

The boy seemed to take Matthias' silent observing as a signal that he was weirded out, and quickly backpedaled. "Oh! Uh, sorry, I didn't mean, like, I'm in love with you or anything, I mean, I've already got a boyfriend and I don't know if you're gay anyway. Not that I wanted to know if you were! I just, I heard you playing when I was walking down the hallway and I had to see! You see, I'm in this band and our drummer quit on us a few weeks ago and we need to find a new drummer and then I heard you play and I mean…." At this point, the boy seemed to realize he was rambling and spurted a quick, "you're awesome, okay?!" before he covered his mouth in embarrassment.

Matthias blinked. "Um, what?"

"Ugh, I'm such an idiot! Can I start over?"

Matthias nodded, and the boy took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking again: "Hi, I'm Tino Väinämöinen, nice to meet you. I really like your drumming, and I'm sorry I interrupted"

"It's fine," Matthias replied. "I'm Matthias Andersen, but I'm really just an amateur."

Tino gaped, disbelieving. "Are you joking? You've gotta be about ten times better than the last guy we had, no offense to Alfred or anything."

"If you say so," Matthias relented with a short laugh, if only so the conversation could continue. "So, you said something about a band?"

At that, Tino's eyes lit up, and he began to smile. "Oh yeah! We really need a drummer, and you're really good (I've already said you're really good, that's super awkward I'm sorry)! Do you wanna join?"

"Well, I don't see why not. I've always sort of wanted to be in a band," Matthias mused. Having made his decision, he met Tino's intimidated – but not unhappy – gaze. "Alright, but only if you've got a decent kit. This one sucks."

"Oh, we've definitely got a drum kit!" Tino remarked before furrowing his brow at the set Matthias was seated at. "Wow, those do look bad. How do you make them sound so amazing?"

"I don't," Matthias scoffed with a flippant eyeroll. "My playing sounds like total shit on this. What time is this band of yours rehearsing?"

"Right now, if you'd like – not that I'm forcing you or anything. We agreed that we'd call each other and rehearse once we found a drummer."

"Well, whatcha waiting for then? Go call 'em. I'll do anything if it means I get to play on a snare that actually works."

"Oh, uh, okay!" Tino seemed a bit surprised that Matthias was so willing to join, but withdrew his phone from his backpack nonetheless and dialed a number. "Hey, Lukas?" he asked after a moment.

There was a pause.

"No, no, that's not it. No…. Lukas! Stop talking, please... Okay, well, I finally found a drummer! And he's really good, too…. No, seriously, he's even better than Alfred... Yeah, we can come over right away, should I call Berwald, or- oh, alright, I guess _you _can do that then. Okay, we'll see you in a few minutes! Bye, Lukas!"

And with that, he hung up and put his phone away again. "Alright, Matthias, let's see if you really do sound better on the Jensen's drums."

Matthias let out a cocky peal of laughter, undaunted. "Challenge accepted."

* * *

_"There's a song I was listenin' to up all night_

_There's a voice I am hearin' sayin' it's alright"_

_~ "M!ssundaztood", M!ssundaztood, P!nk_


	2. Your Mortal Sin

**Anthrax: an acute disease caused by the bacterium Bacillus anthracis. Most forms of the disease are lethal, and it affects mostly animals.**

* * *

Lukas was, to everyone else, constantly in a state of clinical apathy. Rarely did he smile, much less raise his voice, cry, blush, or outwardly show any real emotion.

Not that he didn't have feelings. He still experienced feelings just as any other would, he just preferred not to display such fragile and irrational things as emotions to the whole world. It made him feel… vulnerable. Thusly, he went about his life wearing an imaginary mask, shutting out even his closest friends and family.

So, true to his callous and borderline-pretentious nature, when he looked down at the caller ID of his phone (which had been ringing), he skipped any formalities such as 'hello,' or maybe a casual, 'what's up?' in favor of, "look, Tino, if you're calling about making up with Alfred there is no way in hell that's happening. I don't know why that traitorous scum decided to join Kirkland's band, much less start dating him, and though I guess he was obnoxious anyway-"

No, the surprise lay in the quantity rather than the quality of his speech. While Lukas truly hated unnecessary conversation, one could hardly manage to shut him up when given the chance to criticize, especially when he was in one of his moods.

He sighed. "What is it, Tino? I swear, if this is anything like what happened with Gilbert I'm going to castrate this new drummer, whoever he is…. Fine, fine. Well, Emil and I are available. Can you and the new _candidate_ come over?" The word 'candidate' was doused in venom, spoken as ironically as his stoicism allowed.

Actually, now that he thought about it, he had no idea where Emil was or if he was available, but his little brother tended to randomly appear when needed anyhow, so this really didn't cause Lukas distress.

"… I can call," he told Tino, who'd just offered to call Berwald – an awful idea, if he'd ever heard one. Once Tino started talking to his boyfriend, who knew when he'd stop? "You'll get distracted. I want to waste as little time as humanly possible…. I'll be ready in half an hour. Bye, Tino." And with that, he hung up.

Lukas should have been ecstatic – finally, after six unbearable weeks without a single band rehearsal, he finally had the chance to play again! – But he couldn't even bring himself to be happy. In fact, his first thought was, _'shit, now I actually have to talk to people'_. Now, Lukas had always been a bit shy, but his pessimism regarding the ordeal even surprised himself. Gilbert may have been bad, but he was not so completely unbearable that he had lost all hope for his band.

Perhaps he was just sick of drummers. Alfred had been a self-absorbed idiot, so'd Gilbert, and at this point Lukas was kind of expecting someone obnoxious. Lukas hated obnoxious people. Obnoxious people did obnoxious things, like abandoning his band to join those of his enemies.

And that just sucked.

That's what had happened with Alfred Jones, their previous drummer. Arthur had seduced him somehow (because there was simply no way those two had actually fallen in love the way Alfred claimed they had; that was just silly), and gotten him to join his band, leaving Lukas betrayed, without a drummer, and feeling kind of like shit.

Nonetheless, Lukas had agreed to let this new percussionist audition, so he called Berwald and started to mentally prepare for whatever storm was coming.

* * *

"So, what's this band like?" Matthias asked Tino in an attempt to make small talk as the two walked down an empty street. "I sort of know you, but how are the rest of them?"

"Well, right now there are four of us: me; my boyfriend, Berwald; Lukas; and his brother, Emil. Berwald's really sweet, but he's kind of quiet and he can be a little intimidating at first. He plays the bass, and I'm pretty sure he knows every single ABBA song by heart. Then Emil is… hard to describe. I mean, not in a bad way or anything! Just… different. He listens to a bunch of indie music you probably haven't heard of and I can't remember the last time I've seen him without some form of Starbuck's coffee."

"So, he's a hipster," Matthias concluded.

Tino's eyes widened in realization. "Yeah, I guess he is, isn't he? I never noticed that before…. So yeah, Emil plays pretty much every instrument known to man. He only does the rhythm guitar part in the band, though."

"Rhythm guitar?" Matthias furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"Yeah, you know, the guitar that plays chords in the background while- wait, how much do you know about rock music, anyway?"

"Pretty much nothing," Matthias replied, as if that was of no concern.

"Well, okay then. Where was I?" Tino paused for a moment before continuing: "oh yeah! Lukas! Huh, I'm not sure how well you two would get along…. Not that either of you are bad people or anything! He's just really critical, so be prepared. I don't think I've ever seen him talk to a nerd- I mean, someone like you, before. Oh, and he also kind of made himself the leader of the band, so whatever he says goes, I guess." He looked like he was going to say more, but he cut himself off with a somewhat awkward laugh.

"Well, I'm sure that won't be a problem –no one can resist my awesomeness for too long," Matthias remarked, smirking in a sudden show of confidence.

"Huh, that's funny," Tino mused. "The last guy who auditioned said the exact same thing."

"Seriously? What happened to him?"

"Lukas rejected him because he was too loud and annoying," Tino stated before realizing what he had just implied. He quickly backpedaled. "Not that he's going to reject you, or that you're annoying! I was just… I don't know."

"Eh, it's okay. I'm sure it'll work out." Matthias waved his hand dismissively, opting to change the topic before it got too weird. "Wait, what type of music do you play?"

"Punk," Tino replied, "though I guess today my clothing's a bit more metal, what with the Anthrax shirt." He gestured to his shirt, which indeed said 'Anthrax' on it.

Whatever Tino had meant by that was lost on Matthias; he didn't know anything about either genre. In fact, he'd always thought the two were the same thing. They both had a lot of guitars and screaming people, so what was the difference?

And what the hell? Anthrax? "You have a shirt with the name of a bacterial disease on it?"

Tino raised an eyebrow. "I do?"

"Yeah, anthrax is a bacterial disease found primarily in cattle and sheep that causes ulcers," he explained. "How is that metal?"

Tino stared at him for a moment before letting out a snort.

"What?" Matthias asked, still confused.

And with that, Tino gave in to the temptation and started to laugh. "Oh god… I just… wow," he exclaimed between bursts of giggling, "you don't know anything about this stuff, do you?"

"Is it really that obvious?" Matthias wondered aloud.

"Matthias, Anthrax is a band. A really freaking awesome band. That's why I have this shirt, not because of some disease with sheep or something. God, Lukas is either going to hate you, or think you're hilarious!"

Well, now he kind of felt like an idiot. "Are you sure I'm going to fit in with you guys?" he asked, stifling a cringe as he let his more self-conscious side shine through. "I mean, I don't know anything about punks or being punk."

"Oh, not all of us are necessarily punks. I mean, according to Lukas, I'm not a punk, even though I listen to punk music," Tino elaborated with a pointed eye-roll that revealed just how silly he found Lukas' biases. "Berwald listens to cheesy 80's pop, and Emil's a hipster, and they don't have any problems. You'll be fine. And if nothing else, your nerdiness is pretty entertaining. Uh, no offense."

Matthias waved a dismissive hand in Tino's direction. "None taken."

Then, seeing as neither had anything to say (Matthias still being embarrassed by his lack of knowledge, and Tino seeming suddenly distracted by his phone), the two walked on in an uncomfortable silence. Tino had led them to a poorer part of the town, populated by one-storey houses with warped exteriors and chipped paint. There was no one out on the streets for about ten minutes, until a tall blond man named Berwald appeared in the distance.

Matthias only knew that his name was Berwald because Tino suddenly called out, "Berwald!" and ran up to him, Matthias himself in tow.

Berwald turned around just in time for Tino to run into him, which might have knocked him over had he not been about fifteen centimeters taller than his boyfriend.

It was only after the two had shared a rather adorable hug that Tino remembered Matthias was still there. "Oh yeah! Berwald, this is Matthias, our new possible drummer. Matthias, this is Berwald, my wife!"

"Uh, what?" Matthias glanced at Berwald, wondering under what circumstance a man could possibly be referred to as anyone's wife.

"No, 'm not Tino's wife," Berwald mumbled, shaking his head. His voice was so deep that Matthias wondered how it didn't make his ears vibrate, and his accent was just thick enough that one would have to pay close attention to grasp what he was saying (not that Mathias' was any better). "Tino's _my_ wife."

"No, you're the wife!" Tino shot back, though his smile gave away the joking manner of his retort. "I'm way more masculine than you."

"Keep tellin' yourself that," Berwald responded. He turned to Matthias and added a quick, "'s an inside joke. Nice t'meet ya," before drawing away from Tino to extend his hand.

Matthias shook it in earnest. "Nice to meet you too, Berwald!"

Though Tino had mentioned that Berwald was intimidating, Matthias found it hard to view him that way when he was joking slyly and hugging his boyfriend and generally being pretty amiable. He almost wondered if it was just his immense height, or if his solemn expression was just too much.

That wasn't important, though, he figured as they continued down the battered streets toward the area of the slum where Lukas' house was.

* * *

Truthfully, Lukas had no idea what to expect when he opened the door, but he certainly knew it wasn't a boy wearing a white button-down shirt, khakis, and ginormous glasses, hair standing on end like he'd been electrocuted in a cartoon or some shit. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded, because this was definitely not the drummer.

The boy must have been reading his mind, for he smirked and replied, "your new drummer!" The mix of his loud voice and thick accent was enough to grate on Lukas' ears. "The name's Matthias. You're Lukas, right?"

"Yes," he replied automatically, though he barely comprehended that he'd said it. This was the boy Tino had been gushing about? He looked like a fucking nerd; there was no way…. But he wasn't about to waste his personal musings on someone he didn't know or even want to know, so he sighed and asked, "Where's Tino?"

"Oh, he got distracted! We ran into his boyfriend, and I think they're still on the driveway making out or something." Somehow, though his accent was so prominent that he must've been a recent immigrant, still swallowing his words and rolling his r-sounds, his grammar was still impeccable. Lukas would have been impressed if Tino wasn't such a flighty little shit.

God, how many times did he have to tell those two to knock it off with the googly eyes and flirting and kissing?

Lukas rolled his eyes. "Of course they are." He passed the supposed drummer and walked to the driveway. Luckily, they weren't actually making out, but Tino was still talking Berwald's ear off as the two held hands. "Tino, Berwald, I believe you know the rules regarding displays of affection on my property." Namely, no affection was to be displayed (not that anyone really cared about Lukas' unofficial rules anyhow). "And even if you weren't breaking that rule, you're wasting time when we could be practicing."

"Shit, that's right, rehearsal!" Tino realized. "Sorry, Lukas!" The couple made their way into Lukas' house along with the drummer and Lukas himself, who was muttering to no one in particular about the incompetency of his band.

When they were settled in the living room, Matthias blurted, "so when do I get to play? This band thing sounds like fun, and Tino told me you've got a pretty good set of drums."

Lukas was already starting to lose patience with this kid, which wasn't a good sign, seeing as he had only met Matthias about two minutes ago. "No one said you're in the band yet, so don't get your hopes up," he spat, praying that Matthias wasn't as good as Tino said he was. He was almost as chatty as their last drummer, and he didn't want a repeat of that incident. That, and he somehow doubted that anyone so geeky looking would even know how to work a drum kit. Shouldn't he be listening to Mozart or some shit? Punk bands with a nerd flair spelled imminent disaster, Weezer had already proven that eight times over.

And, speaking of imminent disaster, where was Emil? He belatedly realized he had forgotten to even tell him about this.

Well, if this was only a drum audition, Emil probably didn't need to be there anyway, so Lukas continued. "The kit's in the garage with the rest of our equipment. But first, you'll have to prove yourself worthy to play them, since our last two drummers failed to meet our expectations."

Typically Lukas wasn't so stiff and formal, but he had never been comfortable around new people, and this gave a sense of detachment that made things easier to deal with.

Tino let out a nervous laugh. "Lukas, I don't think-"

"Shut up, Tino," Lukas commanded as he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, along with a lighter. His head was starting to pound, and if nothing else, perhaps the smoke would ward off the idiot. "We have terms and conditions now," he said as he lit the cigarette and breathed in the nicotine, might as well put them to use. "First…"

Matthias hardly paid attention, though, as he stared Lukas up and down, noting the way one side of his head was cut short with a cross shaved into it, while the other side was somewhat long. He observed the thick black eyeliner around his eyes, the piercings in his ears and nose, and the dog tags around his neck. He noticed his band tee-shirt with the words "Operation Ivy" printed across the front with purposefully torn sleeves, along with a pair of shredded jeans that hugged his legs, which he apparently shaved.

_Shit,_ Matthias realized,_ he's hot._ Things typically went bad for him when he noticed that someone was hot. He wasn't exactly much the looker himself, or so he thought.

He contrasted Lukas' outfit with his own, which had consisted of a pair of khaki pants, a white, collared button-down, and a pair of glasses that were dorky enough not to be considered cool, but not dorky enough to be hipster (and thus still somehow cool). His only accessory was a cheap black watch that ran two minutes fast.

_God, way to make a good impression. He probably thinks I'm a weirdo._

But what had Tino said earlier? He didn't need to be a punk to be in the band, he just needed to play the drums and not be a total ass.

He tried to ignore appearances, half-listening to Lukas drone on about how 'treason' would be regarded as a 'capital offense' and other nonsense that was far too serious for such a band. He agreed to terms when necessary, though he had to wonder why a punk was being so stiff about this.

"- and honestly," Lukas said with a tone of finality that suggested his speech was coming to a close, "for the love of god, please try not to look like such a nerd. Would it kill you to at least look the part?"

Well, there it was: all his insecurities, shoved into his face like a controversial newspaper headline. Try as he may, Matthias could never pull off that whole cool thing. It just didn't work. He had leather jackets and sunglasses in his closet, he'd experimented with pop music and football (or soccer, in America) and Instagram and honestly, he was sick of trying to be cool.

That was one of the reasons he hadn't complained about moving to America: there were tons and tons of people, far more than the small Danish town he'd come from, so there must be some group of people he could associate with, right?

He remembered Tino's kindness and Berwald's lame inside jokes. Even Lukas, cool and edgy as he was with his piercings and his cigarette, showed some sense of inner dorkery with his seamlessly formal vocabulary, and his snobbish attitude toward punk music reminded him of militant fandom die-hards more than anything else.

And if Lukas was really that set on a drummer, none of this should have mattered anyway. It wasn't like Matthias would be center stage.

"I see what you're trying to say," he retorted, "But I think what really matters is that I can play my instrument. It sounds kind of like the last couple of guys who've tried to audition were total dicks, but I promise I'll try to be better." Yeah, that sounded decent enough. "That, and I just moved here, and I need friends," he added helpfully.

Lukas sighed out another cloud of smoke, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine, you can audition. But if you get in (and I'm not saying you will), don't expect me to be your friend. I have too many friends already."

Matthias was skeptical of this. Everyone could use more friends, right? "We'll see about that," he smirked. "Now, where's this drum set I keep hearing about?"

* * *

_"No feelings_

_For anybody else_

_Except for myself"_

~ "No Feelings", _Never Mind the Bollocks_, The Sex Pistols


	3. In the Garage

**Ostracism: a procedure under the Athenian democracy in which any citizen could be expelled from the city-state of Athens for a period of ten years, often used as a way of neutralizing someone thought to be a threat to the tyrant. The word "ostracism" remains in common use to refer to those who face social shunning.**

Most teenagers do not have a recording studio in their garage.

Then again, pretty much everything about Lukas' house seemed a bit off. It was secluded at the end of a row of worn-down houses, and there was no noise anywhere but at this one house. Matthias had yet to see any parental unit, which he found rather odd seeing as his own parents watched over him like hawks (in fact, he was really hoping this rehearsal would not cause him to miss his curfew because otherwise he would be in serious trouble). Anyhow, one more oddity really should not have shocked Matthias at this point.

It wasn't like it was fancy or anything. Just the needed instruments, and some assorted microphones and cords that connected to an amp and a computer, allowing them to play and record music. But it was impressive nonetheless, and Matthias still gawked at the sight.

Then he heard someone clear their throat. His eyes widened (somehow more than they already had) in surprise as he turned to see a silver-haired boy sitting in one of the chairs that had been haphazardly placed in the room. "I see we have another idiot. Here to try to get past Lukas, I presume?"

Perplexed, Matthias could only think to nod and give a somewhat awkward, "Uh, yeah!"

"Take my advice," the boy said to the Dane. "You may as well leave now. Lukas is never going to let you into the band. Not that I care either way; drums are too mainstream anyhow."

"Oh, so you're Emil!" Matthias remarked, taking note of the boy's fashionable scarf, flannel shirt, and skinny jeans, which were easily identified as hipster (the reason Matthias could easily identify hipster traits but not those of a punk or metalhead would remain shrouded in mystery forever more). "You seem a lot like your brother."

The younger teen obviously did not appreciate this sentiment as Emil immediately blushed in embarrassment, spluttering, "I am not! My brother's a conceited douchebag!"

"Emil, you are the definition of a conceited douchebag." Lukas rolled his eyes before adding, "You're a cute little conceited douchebag though, so it's okay." And for the first time that day, Matthias noticed Lukas' mouth twitch into the barest hint of a smirk, though it only lasted for a moment before stoicism overtook his face once more.

"Lukas, one of these days I am going to kill you, I swear…"

"Anyway," Lukas interjected, blatantly ignoring his brother. "Show me what you've got. The drum kit's right over there." He gestured to the far end of the room from where they stood near the door. A few feet from the wall a bright red and completely functional drum set sat ready to play, causing Matthias to make a noise that can really only be described as a fangirl squeal and run over to the glorious instrument, stopping to find a pair of drumsticks before he sat at the stubby cushioned seat behind the drums.

And finally, Matthias was free to play whatever he wished, which would have been amazing had he thought about what to play beforehand. He had not, however, so he simply sat with his sticks raised as the four band members stared expectantly.

He tried desperately to remember how to move his sticks while people were judging him, but his thoughts were incoherent. In fact, at this point it had kind of been reduced to a mantra of _shit, shit, shit, shit, shit… _Which did not exactly help with the whole playing process.

"Well?" A voice interrupted his eloquent musings and Matthias looked up to see Lukas with his hands on his hips. "Can you play or not?"

That was the last straw. No one was allowed to question Matthias Andersen's abilities but himself. He slammed down his foot on the pedal, which subsequently beat the bass drum.

_Boom!_

Then he struck the snare with his left stick.

_Smack!_

He hit the bass again, and then the snare. He repeated his pattern, this time adding the hi-hat on eighth notes.

_Boom-tap smack-tap boom-tap smack-tap!_

Then it got more complicated as he got into his improvisation a little more.

_Boom-boom-tap-ba-boom smack-tap ba-boom-tap smack! Boom-tap rat-a-tat boom-tap smack!_

And on he went for a good five minutes or so, complimenting the bass-snare pattern with toms and cymbals as he became fully immersed in his solo.

He wrapped up the song with a roll of the snare and a loud "_crash!" _from one of his cymbals, and turned his gaze toward the band.

"Holy shit…" Emil broke the silence. "You can actually play."

"See?!" Tino exclaimed. "And you guys didn't believe me!"

But that was not who Matthias was concerned about. He glanced at Lukas, whose blank face revealed absolutely nothing regarding his opinion.

"So... Am I in the band?" Matthias asked him.

Lukas' face immediately hardened. "Hell no. Your stance is sloppy, your rhythm is imprecise, and you are far too loud."

"Oh, come on Lukas!" Tino yelled angrily. "He's at least three times as good as Alfred, and you let _him_ in!"

"Tino-"

"No, he's right," Emil interrupted. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with him and we both know it. So there must be some other reason you don't want him in…"

Lukas looked unfazed. "Emil, he sucks. If you couldn't hear how bad that was you must be going deaf."

"No, you're just judging him because he doesn't look like he can play," Emil concluded. "Sure, Lukas, he looks like he spends his time playing Dungeons and Dragons, but we're a little too desperate to ostracize a perfectly good drummer just because he's a nerd."

"Exactly!" Tino said in agreement as Berwald nodded.

Matthias furrowed his eyebrows. "Wait… So if three out of four of you want me in the band… Why should Lukas decide?"

Emil shrugged. "Because he's an arrogant prick. Get used to it."

"You know what? Fine." Lukas rolled his eyes. "Let him in. But don't come crying to me when he quits." And with that the boy gave a small huff and walked inside, refusing to meet eyes with anyone.

"What was that about?" Matthias asked, somewhat worried about Lukas' demeanor.

"Don't worry; he's just being an ice queen again," Emil assured him. "Now if you'll all excuse me, I was recording a song for my solo album…"

"Oh yeah, we can leave!" Tino's face brightened as he let himself become distracted from the previous conversation. The three of them went back into the main house, and Tino and Berwald exited through the front door.

Matthias, however, was curious. "Why did he say that…?" he mused. Matthias had yet to even think of quitting the band; it was not like he had anything better to do anyway. Obviously Lukas needed some reassurance.

He took a moment to contemplate the possible consequences of interrupting whatever Lukas was doing at a moment before deciding it would not hurt to just see what he was up to. And so Matthias set off to find his new bandmate.

He finally found him in what must have been his room with headphones over his ears, lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Thinking he wouldn't notice, Matthias stepped into the room.

"What do you want?" Lukas demanded without so much as turning to look at the trespasser.

"Well, I was worried," Matthias replied, slightly embarrassed. "You seemed a little… Angry, I guess. If you really want, I don't have to be in your band, but your friends might not appreciate that."

Lukas sighed, removing the headphones from his head. "Those guys aren't my friends. Why should they be? It's not like I have any redeeming qualities."

Matthias thought he looked like he needed a hug, but figured Lukas would probably behead him if he were to give him one. So, in compromise, he opted to walk a little further into the room. "Sure you do," he said in reply. "You might seem a bit intimidating, but it looks like you're just using it to cover up who you really are."

"Oh yeah? And who do you think I really am?" Lukas challenged.

Matthias shrugged. "I don't know. I just met you an hour ago. I guess I'll have to become friends with you to find out."

"What is it with you?" Lukas asked in agitation. "We have nothing in common; why should we even try?"

"Because you seem cool!" Matthias answered. "And neither of us have any friends, so can't we just be friends with each other?"

Lukas had no good response. "I… I… Just leave me alone."

Matthias smirked. "That wasn't a no," he pointed out.

"Nor was it a yes," Lukas shot back icily.

"Fine, fine; I'll stop teasing," Matthias laughed, turning around and walking toward the door.

"Wait!"

Matthias halted and turned to face Lukas again. "What?"

"You…" Lukas' face was tinged with pink. "Rehearsal's tomorrow at 2:30. Don't be late, or you're out of the band."

And with that, Matthias smiled. "Got it. See ya tomorrow, Lukas!" Then he left Lukas' room, smile still on his face.

* * *

_"In the garage_

_I feel safe_

_No one cares about my ways"_

~ "In the Garage", _Weezer (The Blue Album),_ Weezer


	4. Awful Names

**Calculus: Calculus is the mathematical study of change. It has two major branches, differential calculus, which entails rates of change and slopes of curves, and integral calculus, which deals with the accumulation of quantities and the areas under and between curves; these two branches are related to each other by the fundamental theorem of calculus.**

Lukas must have had the strangest schedule known to man. Every morning, he woke up at about five-thirty to practice singing and playing the guitar. After that, he would eat breakfast, earn his daily wage selling pot to the local thugs behind the school (no, Lukas did not smoke pot; he preferred to keep his brain intact, thanks), and head to his first class of the day: AP Calculus.

Now, Lukas had a reputation to uphold, so he hadn't told any of his band mates he was taking the most difficult math class in the school. Honestly, imagine what people would think of that. Who ever heard of a deadbeat punk kid with a 4.0 GPA?

He was strategically seated in the back of the class so as not to draw attention to himself, looking out the window and clutching his daily fix of black coffee. The bell wasn't going to ring for about ten more minutes, and Lukas had every intention of relaxing in silence until his class started.

Until the door burst open and a horrifically familiar nerd walked in, easily identified by his stupid hair, absurd glasses, and cheerful smile.

Shit.

He looked at the ground, hoping his new so-called friend wouldn't notice him.

No such luck. "Hey, Lukas!" Matthias greeted as he walked to back of the room, invading Lukas' corner of solitude.

"What are you doing here?" Lukas demanded in a quiet but harsh hiss. He didn't want any sort of attention in this class in particular, but there was no way would Matthias ever ignore Lukas, especially since he had declared them friends.

"This is my first class," Matthias answered with a sly smile. "And I got here early."

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me..."

But the Dane either missed the vexed tone in Lukas' voice or ignored it entirely as he sat down in the seat right next to his and attempted to start a conversation. "So... calculus," was his brilliantly-crafted icebreaker. Clearly, this boy was a master conversationalist.

_Not that I'm any better, really,_ Lukas mused took a sip of his coffee. "Yes, I know what class I'm taking, though I'm sure you need to constantly remind yourself."

"Well, it seems a bit odd that you're here," Matthias elaborated. "There aren't very many punks in this class."

Lukas twitched. "What are you trying to imply?"

"Nothing," Matthias assured him, but he hummed in thought. "It just seems a little weird is all."

"I don't see why it really matters. In fact, I bet I get better grades than you do. You seem a bit dense."

His words were meant to offend Matthias, but once again, the words bounced right off of him. "You wanna bet? Alright, I'll bet you ten dollars that I get a better score than you on the next test."

Lukas snorted. _Idiot._ "I bet you fifteen I don't make a single mistake on it."

Matthias gave a cocky grin, clearly thinking he had this in the bag. "Deal," he replied, holding his hand out in front of Lukas as if he expected him to shake it or something.

Lukas gave his classmate a silent, deadpan glare that seemed to say, "ew, physical contact," and went back to ignoring the Dane until he retracted his hand.

And with that awkward exchange, the bell promptly rang, and the teacher started the class.

* * *

"-And then Leon told me that I'm shallow. I mean, seriously? Me, shallow? Yeah right," Emil complained to Tino, staring at him as if expecting some reaction of disbelief from his friend. It was both their lunch periods, and they usually sat together and talked. Sometimes Lukas joined as well, but most of the time it was just the two of them, since Berwald had a class the.

Tino opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted before he had the chance to say anything.

"Hey guys!" Matthias shouted, walking toward the two.

"Oh, hi Matthias!" Tino greeted cheerfully. "Do you want to sit with us?"

"Yeah, that sounds great," the boy replied, sitting down next between the two.

"Anyway," Emil continued, unwilling to change topics, "so I told Leon that was total BS, because I'm really just ahead of the game, y'know? I like being ahead of the game. Honestly, why do I even bother with him?"

"Because he's your best friend?" Tino suggested.

"Oh, shut up," he sassed back in a falsely melodramatic tone before turning to Matthias. "So, Matthias, how are you?"

"Great! I saw Lukas in calc class this morning," Matthias replied, an easy smile on his face.

"Wait, you saw who? Where?" Emil asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

"I saw Lukas in calculus."

"Lukas is in calculus? How?"

"I dunno," Matthias shrugged. "I didn't even notice him until today."

Emil narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Are you sure? I don't think I've even seen him study in over four years."

"Well, maybe that's what he does when he locks himself in his room every day," Tino remarked, . "It's cool you two are in the same class, though I hope Lukas isn't too sullen for you."

"Oh, he's fine," Matthias assured him. "He just needs to warm up to me. I mean, he didn't say 'no' when I asked to be friends with him..."

Lukas appeared out of nowhere, silent, sneaky and bitter as a viper in the grass. "Is it even worth it to remind you that I didn't say 'yes', either?"

"What are you doing here?" Emil all but sneered at his brother.

Lukas made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat as he placed his satchel on the ground and sat in the last remaining seat at the table. "Free country."

"Aw, come on you two," Tino groaned, although he was still smiling. "We have a new friend-"

"Band mate," Lukas corrected.

"Fine, band mate," Tino repeated. "Either way, he's gonna quit if we act so mean around him."

"I somehow doubt that. I've been insulting him all morning and he doesn't even seem to notice," Lukas pointed out.

"You do know I'm right here, right?" Matthias replied mirthfully, still ignoring any and all insults that came his way.

Lukas couldn't help but wonder how the Dane did it. He began to suspect Matthias was purposefully blocking out or shrugging off anything that could offend him. It would explain why Lukas had yet to see him sad or angry.

"He does; he just chooses not to acknowledge you," Emil said. "Like I said yesterday, Lukas is a bitch. You'll get used to it eventually. Or quit, like everyone else."

"I'm also right here, dear," the punk reiterated, lacing the last word with as much venom as he could muster.

Emil face palmed. "Who are you, my mother? I'm pretty sure brothers aren't supposed to call each other 'dear'."

"I'm doing that on purpose, _sweetheart_. It's called sarcasm."

"Oh God..." Emil shuddered.

Lukas only smirked. "Honey."

"Shut up."

"Sweetie."

"No, seriously, shut up." Emil tried to give Lukas a death glare, but his face was cute and boyish enough that it really just looked like a pout.

"Bae."

Okay, that was the last straw. No one called Emil Jensen their 'bae'. "Y'know what, I actually have a person to meet at a, uh, place. I've gotta go." He stood up, slung his backpack over one shoulder, and walked away as quickly as he could without drawing attention.

"Emil!" Tino cried out. "No need to be embarrassed. You know he didn't mean it!"

"Yeah!" Matthias agreed. "He was just kidding around!" Then he turned to Lukas. "You were just kidding around, right?"

"You don't need to know," Lukas responded, face once again blank. It was obviously no one's business whether or not he terrorized his brother out of spite or out of nostalgia for the olden days when Emil would actually let Lukas call him such things. And if it wasn't Matthias' business, Lukas was sure as hell not going to tell him about it. The bastard had already told his bandmates about his calc class, and Lukas had absolutely no reason to trust that weirdo.

* * *

It was a quarter to three in the living room of the Bondevik residence, and Lukas was just about ready to give up on this band practice altogether. He didn't even know who to blame at this point.

Should he blame Emil, who had decided to steal all the remaining coffee in the house, which was already causing Lukas to go into withdrawal?

Or perhaps Matthias, who hadn't shut up since he'd arrived at two-thirty? Okay, fine, Lukas had told him to come, but he hadn't realized that the Dane was physically incapable of keeping his mouth shut. His head was pounding harder and harder with every word he said, but he didn't want to admit that he was too weak (and too low on cigarettes) to deal with him.

Actually, what stressed Lukas the most was the fucking married couple that had decided to ditch rehearsal to do… something. Knowing them, probably making out or doing something sickeningly romantic. Or both. Lukas really didn't give a damn. What mattered was the fact that weren't at rehearsal, and the band couldn't play without their bassist and lead guitarist.

"So, what's the band called?" Matthias asked, interrupting Lukas' musings. "I don't think you guys ever told me."

Lukas shrugged. "Don't have one."

"What?" Matthias asked, taken aback. "How? Haven't you been together for a while?"

"Yes, we have," Emil replied. "We just haven't been able to agree on one yet."

Matthias and Emil continued talking about the band as Lukas began to tap his foot impatiently. "Where are they?"

Emil didn't answer his question, but rather turned to Matthias and said, "We actually have a list of debated band names about four pages long. I think Tino came up with at least ninety percent of them."

Lukas took out his cell phone and texted quick 'where the fuck are you' message to Berwald.

"Wow, that many? C'mon, there's gotta be at least one good name in there."

"Well, yeah, my contribution was amazing," Emil replied with an eye roll. "But no one else really wanted to be called 'A Blank Piece of Paper, Slowly Drifting Away in a Gentle Summer Breeze.'"

Matthias cocked his head. "Isn't that a bit of a mouthful?"

"What? No! It's poetry," Emil shot back, offended.

From the poorly-hidden smirk on the boy's face, though, Matthias guessed that this hipster getup was more for attention than anything else. "Alright, well do you like any of Tino's names?"

Lukas was tempted to laugh at that sentence. "Idiot. If it was that easy, don't you think we would've worked it out already?" He walked over to a chest in the corner of the room, pulled out the top drawer, and snatched out the list. "Here," he said, giving the papers to Matthias. "Look through the ones labeled 'Tino', and tell me if you see a single decent band name."

He watched as Matthias read the potential names on the sheet, becoming more and more amused at each. Before he had even reached the end of the first page, he could not keep himself from laughing. "Oh God, he was joking, right?"

Emil cracked a smile. "That's the best part: he wasn't. He thinks he's some sort of genius band name generator or something."

"How-?"

He held up a hand to keep Matthias from finishing his sentence. "I don't even know."

"Fucking shit," Lukas groaned to no one in particular, glancing fleetingly toward the front door. "Where the fuck are they?"

His question was answered by three distinct knocks.

"Well," Emil remarked. "I have a good guess."

"Shut up, you adorable little devil," Lukas scolded (and yes, that really was the worst insult he could give his brother) before walking to the door, his face stoic but his hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms.

He opened the door and immediately asked, "Where were you two?"

All that earned him was a piece of paper shoved into his face. "Lukas!" Tino said excitedly. "Look at this!"

Lukas took the sheet from Tino's hand and began to look it over. "Okay, and why is our high school's annual 'Battle of the Bands' concert worth showing up over half an hour late?"

"Well, look at the grand prize!" Tino replied, eyes sparkling with glee. "Five thousand dollars, Lukas! That's a thousand per person, and we've already got a band and everything!"

"We could get gigs somewhere else and make just as much," Lukas pointed out, still not convinced.

Berwald spoke up. "Arthur's band signed up."

Lukas' eyes suddenly widened, grip on the door growing tense as his fingers clenched up. "Come in," he said, dazed, as he backed away from the door to let them in.

The couple walked inside and followed Lukas back to the living room. Once they were all situated, Lukas set the flyer on the coffee table in front of Matthias and Emil, telling them to read it.

"Okay, and...?" Emil asked once he was finished. "I thought you hated high school events."

"The Allies signed up," Lukas explained.

"What allies?" Matthias asked. "Like World War Two? Or- oh, it's a band name, isn't it?"

Tino snorted. "Yes, it's a band name."

"Anyway," Lukas interjected, signaling a return to the matter at hand. "The contest is in February. We have four months to get the band up to par, come up with a song, and be able to play it."

Tino nodded. "That sounds reasonable."

"Yeah, should be fine," Matthias agreed. "First order of business: we need a name."

"Who put you in charge?" Lukas scathed, taken off guard.

"Who put you in charge?" Matthias sassed back with a smirk.

And, for once, Lukas didn't even have a good comeback.

"Okay, any ideas?" Matthias asked, still smiling.

Tino's face brightened. "Ooh, I know! What about one of the names on the-"

"We're not using the list," Emil and Lukas replied in unison.

The two brothers looked at each other. Lukas grinned, and Emil hid his face behind his hands.

"What's wrong with the list?" Tino wondered aloud.

"It's stupid," Emil replied, "and you can stop talking about it. God, does no one here have any taste-"

"Emil, you aren't helping," Lukas interrupted. "Why don't we come up with some new ones, and then I can decide…. Er, I mean, we can take a vote to decide which name we should use."

The next ten or so minutes were spent brainstorming and arguing. In Lukas' opinion, every suggested name as of yet was either boring or downright stupid.

"I still think we should just call ourselves 'A Band'," Emil said. "It's at least better than Tino's names."

Or both. Emil was very good at coming up with names that had a perfect balance of boring and stupid.

Tino seemed to take offense at Emil's notion, and responded, "how? It's so uncreative."

"It would be ironic," Emil explained. "It would be a passive aggressive statement against society's unrealistic demand that each band have a unique and interesting name. What do the rest of you think?"

Lukas rolled his eyes while Matthias replied with a simple, "um, maybe no?"

Berwald shook his head. "Don't think so. 'S'not exactly an eye-catchin' name."

"Hey, where's that accent from?" Matthias asked, changing the topic entirely (Lukas didn't even care at this point; it wasn't like they were being productive anyhow). "It sounds familiar."

"Sweden."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Dude, I'm from Denmark," Matthias exclaimed. "That makes us, like, brothers or something."

"That's not how it works," Lukas replied. "And I think I would be included in this so-called family as well, seeing as I'm Norwegian."

"You're what?"

_"Jeg kommer fra Norge."_

"No way... Next you're going to tell me Tino's from Scandinavia too," Matthias said in disbelief.

"Finland, actually," Tino corrected. "Close, though."

"Wait, so everyone here's from a Nordic country," Matthias concluded.

"That's kinda how we met," Emil elaborated. "In middle school Lukas and I started a Nordic club, and Berwald and Tino both joined, and then we became a band somehow… give or take a few details."

"Maybe we should call ourselves The Nordics or something..." Matthias mused, furrowing his eyebrows in thought. "Oh, I know! How about the Nordic Five?"

Everyone was silent for a moment.

Emil broke the silence. "Well, we don't have anything better, so why not?"

"Yeah, it sounds fine," Tino added helpfully.

Berwald nodded.

Naturally, Lukas complained. "It sounds like the name of a sappy boy band, but I guess it could be worse."

"Alright, so it's decided then," Matthias remarked. "From henceforth, we will forever be known as the Nordic Five. Any objections?"

Seeing as there were none, the Nordic Five decided to go to the garage and finally commence rehearsal.

* * *

_"They said all teenagers scare the living shit out of me_

_They could care less as long as someone'll bleed_

_So darken your clothes or strike a violent pose_

_Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me_

_..._

_The boys and girls in the clique_

_The awful names that they stick_

_You're never gonna fit in much, kid"_

~ "Teenagers", _The Black Parade_, My Chemical Romance


	5. Love of a Stranger

**Syncopation: a variety of rhythms that are in some way unexpected, making part or all of a tune or piece of music off-beat.**

Sure, Matthias was a great drummer. He sounded wonderful with the band, and he was a fast learner.

But did he have the ability not to piss off his band mates?

"I hate you!" Emil shouted, chasing after the Dane in hot pursuit.

Matthias did nothing but cackle maniacally.

"Oh, you're going down," the boy replied.

"That's what you think." Matthias flashed a cocky grin.

Lukas entered the room and sighed in exasperation. "What's going on here?"

Neither turned to look at him, far too focused on their little war. "Just kicking Matthias' ass at MarioKart," Emil answered, still chasing after his band mate— on the game, that is. In just a week, the two had become fast frenemies. Sure, Matthias was obnoxious, and both of them had a competitive streak that turned into skirmishes like this fairly regularly, but they hung out almost every day after school anyhow. If nothing else, they both loved to bother Lukas together.

"Yeah fucking right!" Matthias interjected. "I just bumped you back to eighth place!"

"Emil," Lukas continued, "Weren't you supposed to be teaching Matthias about the history of punk?"

"Got bored," Emil said with a shrug. "And I still don't see why you aren't teaching him yourself... Shit, shit, shit! Stop that!"

Matthias snorted. "No way! It's too fun to torment you!"

"Emil. Punk music."

The boy jerked his controller to the left. "Fine! Okay, so once upon a time, people were boring because rock music hadn't been invented yet... Oh, no you don't, Princess Peach!"

"Emil..."

"I know! Shut up! And then one day, people realized that music sounded cooler when they put the stress on the second and fourth beats rather than the first and third."

"Okay," Matthias replied as he shook his controller fiercely. "I knew that much. I'm a drummer, remember?"

"Shut up. So anyway, rock started to get more and more awesome, right? Until the seventies, when some idiots invented disco. Suddenly, all pop music was overly sappy and covered in synths," Emil continued, making it sound like sappy and synth-infused music was literally the worst thing in the world.

Matthias veered his controller to the right whilst furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. "Is that really so bad?"

Emil paused the game and stared his band mate in the eyes. "Matthias. They started using drum machines. They replaced drummers with machines."

"What!"

"I know, right? So anyway..." He unpaused the game. "In response to this heresy, some people decided to rebel and make music that didn't sound like frilly, fluffy pop shit."

"And that was punk?"

Emil smiled. "And that was punk." Then his face grew sullen once more. "But, uh... That became way too mainstream way too fast. Now indie rock's the best."

"So, that's it?" Matthias asked.

Lukas rolled his eyes. "Hell no. Emil, you're fired. That sucked. And plenty of popular seventies music still had real drums. Have you not heard of Blondie? Or Queen?"

Emil turned his remote to the left. "Hello? Trying to concentrate here- shit! No, no, no! Not happening."

Matthias snorted.

"Anyhow, rehearsal starts in two minutes, so you both need to quit." Lukas grabbed the remote and switched off the television.

"Hey!" Matthias cried in protest. "We were in the middle of a game!"

Emil let out a frustrated growl. He stood up, looked at Lukas, shouted, "Fuck you!" and left the room.

Silence.

Matthias blinked. "Well, that was… Abrupt."

"Just get in the garage, you imbecile. This is obviously all your fault."

Oh, so he was playing that game. Lukas had developed a habit of blaming Matthias for literally everything that went wrong— especially events that he himself had no involvement in. Once, Lukas had stubbed his toe in the garage during rehearsal and said it was Matthias' fault simply because his drum playing was 'distracting'. "Uh, no it's not."

"Matthias. Garage."

He sighed in defeat. "Fine, fine."

* * *

Sadly, this was not the only fight Matthias and Lukas got into that day. Not ten minutes into rehearsal, Lukas stopped their playing and turned to Matthias. "You're off-beat."

"No, you're off-beat."

"What are you talking about? I was perfect. You were off."

"Well, then all of us were off, because I was in sync with everyone else." This earned a few laughs from the other members before Lukas gave them each an icy glare to effectively silence the masses.

"Until the bridge," Lukas countered. "You messed up; I could tell."

"I… I don't understand." Matthias was at a loss. This had to be the third time Lukas had nitpicked him today, and as good as he was at keeping a perpetual smile on his face, the constant criticism was growing to become too much. "I can't do anything right with you, can I?"

"No, you can't."

Well, that was it. Matthias gave up. "Fine then!" He sighed. "I guess I'll be going. I'll see you tomorrow."

And with that, he said a quick goodbye to the rest of the band, thanked Emil for inviting him over, and left the building.

Matthias had just gotten home and gone to his room when his cell phone rang. "Yeah?"

"Matt," Emil replied. "I want to talk to you."

"Not in the mood."

The boy sighed. "Yeah, I know. You'll be back tomorrow, right?"

He pondered that for a minute. Most of the band was actually pretty fun to to be around, but Lukas was so judgmental.

But had he not promised he would be friends with Lukas? Had he not told Lukas himself that he had redeeming qualities?

He hadn't figured out any of Lukas' good traits, but that didn't mean he never would.

"Yes," he decided. "I will."

"Good." A pause. "You know, he's only going so hard on you to see if you'll leave."

There was that sense of foreboding again, the implication that Matthias would leave the band. "Why? Why is he so worried about me leaving?"

"Can't give any specifics; that's for Lukas to tell you. But I will say that under all that condescension, he really does like you."

"Yeah, right." Matthias rolled his eyes. "Of course. That's why he's constantly trying to lower my self-esteem."

"Exactly!" Emil exclaimed. "He's such a drama queen. I mean, seriously, you're harmless!"

He paused for a moment. "But anyway, just keep trying with that friend thing. He'll get a grip at some point. And you were actually doing pretty well up until then."

Seeing as that was the first time Matthias had cracked, Emil was probably right. He was being pretty patient.

"Alright. Thanks, man."

"Sure. See you tomorrow."

And with that, the line went dead.

* * *

"Lukas!" Matthias called eagerly the next day toward the end of their shared class. He probably should have been paying attention to his teacher, but Lukas seemed infinitely more important at the moment— of course, Matthias may have been slightly biased.

That, and both of them had non verbally decided to never speak of yesterday's outburst again, so Matthias could just keep going along with his original plan to become best friends with Lukas.

"Shut up," he responded.

Matthias chose not to listen to that demand, continuing to prod. "Lukas..."

"Be quiet."

"Lukas..."

"Go away."

"Lukas..."

Lukas rolled his eyes and grumbled, "What is it?"

"What did ya get on the test?" Matthias asked. "Remember the bet?"

Matthias knew he had won, and he really wanted his ten bucks. He could use ten bucks.

"I got a perfect score," Lukas replied, showing him his test which indeed had 100% written across the top.

Matthias' smile grew bigger. "I got 110%."

"I see." Lukas furrowed his eyebrows. "You got the bonus questions, didn't you?"

"Yup! That means I win!" Matthias nodded. "You owe me ten dollars."

Lukas looked unfazed. "I also won, remember? I bet that I would get a perfect score, not that I would beat you."

Uh, what? "Really?"

"Yes."

Well, that was confusing. "What does that mean?"

"I give you ten dollars, then you give me fifteen."

"Or I could just give you five," Matthias pointed out.

Lukas feigned surprise. "Oh, so you can do basic subtraction? Wow, I had no idea."

Matthias laughed. "Do you really have any right to say that anymore? I still did better than you."

"Shut up and give me your money," Lukas muttered as his cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink.

Well, Matthias couldn't argue with that level of cuteness. "Fine." He pulled a five-dollar bill out of his pocket and handed it to his classmate, who snatched it up and put it in his bag, refusing to meet Matthias' eyes.

It was a bit strange someone like Lukas had the capacity to look so cute. What with the rugged jean jacket and multiple piercings, one would assume his image would be more akin to badass than cute.

And yet, Matthias found his beautiful blond hair increasingly distracting with its little waves at the tips that occasionally protruded into his face on one side, and its intricately shaven cross on the other. The morning light shining in through the window illuminated his platinum locks, lighting them up as if they were ablaze. His eyes seemed blank and emotionless, but they had to be the most brilliant shade of indigo he had ever seen in his life, and just looking at them kind of made Matthias want to melt into a puddle of goo...

"What are you looking at?" Lukas snapped, causing Matthias to realize he had been looking at the punk for the last three minutes.

What the fuck had just happened? All the poor Norwegian had done was kindly ask him to shut up; Matthias had absolutely no reason to be staring at his new friend.

"Nothing, just spacing!" Matthias lied, scratching the back of his head. Typically, he was open about his romantic interests (including spontaneous moments like these when he found himself checking out his classmates), but he was pretty sure that flirting with Lukas would mess with the whole 'being friends' thing Matthias was trying to do. And Lukas wasn't really all that nice to him anyhow, no matter how much Emil said his brother really liked him.

Lukas narrowed his eyes. "Spacing while staring at me?"

Shit, he was on to him. Matthias, desperately hoping he seemed flighty enough for his original excuse to work, nodded. "Yeah, exactly!"

"Well next time you should stare out the window or something. You were being annoying."

Matthias suppressed a sigh of relief. Good, he was in the clear— for now, anyway. But was that just a spur of the moment 'look, he's hot' kind of thing, or should he begin to worry? He really did not want to deal with a crush on Lukas right now.

He'd always sort of disliked having crushes on people. No one was ever going to return their feelings because he was such a dork, so all he could do was flirt until the feeling faded.

And in this particular case... Well, he'd had a hard time getting Lukas to even try being friends with him. The punk would kill him if he found out Matthias had the hots for him.

Okay. He needed to calm down. He didn't even know if this was legitimately how he felt yet.

He sighed and took a careful glance in Lukas' direction.

Damn.

He swore the boy looked like a punk rock fairy. His delicate features totally clashed with his outfit in the best way possible.

Matthias forced himself to avert his gaze. Oh no.

Sadly, he had no time to mull this over, for at that moment the bell rang signaling the end of the period. He could've sat there after class until Lukas left and he could get a grip, but he had wanted to make plans to hang out with Lukas after school— you know, the whole 'befriending the stuck-up punk in search of his possible hidden kindness' plan.

So Matthias suppressed these newfound feelings as quickly as he could so he could catch Lukas after class. "Hey, Luke!" he called out , glasses falling slightly off-kilter as he ran to catch up with the other boy.

Fortunately, Lukas actually stopped walking, turning around to face the Dane.

The nerd readjusted his glasses and began to speak. "I was thinking, since you wanted me to learn more about punk music, and you know a lot about it, maybe we could hang out some time and you could teach me?"

Lukas deadpanned. "Or maybe you could just strangle me instead."

"Oh, come on!" he whined, sure to keep his tone lighthearted and full of mirth. He would not lose patience with Lukas again. "I'm not that bad, am I?"

"You're a person. People are shit to deal with. They don't understand things, and they're idiots."

At least he didn't discriminate, right?

"Well, I don't know about the idiot part, but I tend to be able to understand things pretty well. There's a reason I got into all those advanced classes, y'know.."

"I'm not going to teach you." The finality in his tone let Matthias know that there would be no further arguments. "Look it up yourself. Although…" he trailed off.

"What?"

Lukas cocked an eyebrow. "You just wanted an excuse to hang out with me, didn't you?"

"If I was, would you care?"

"No," Lukas replied. "I'd think you were being an idiot. You could just ask me if I wanted to spend time with you."

"And what would you have said?" Was there honestly a chance Lukas would willingly hang out with him?

"No."

"Exactly!" Matthias exclaimed. "I was trying to get around that by coming up with a decent excuse."

"You didn't let me finish. I would say no, unless you were okay with alcohol."

"What?" Why did this sound like a bad idea?

"There's a party at the house of a common acquaintance of mine. There would be plenty of alcohol."

Well, Matthias did like drinking, but... "Isn't that illegal?"

"Yes." No explanation, no excuses, just a blatant violation of the law without any sense of shame. "So, what do you say? It's on Saturday."

Ooh, this was tempting. Not only would he get to out with Lukas, but there would also probably be beer. But, seeing as he didn't want a criminal record, he could only give one response: "No."

"Come on."

"Not happening." This seemed like an awkward swap of roles. Typically it was Matthias trying to get Lukas to do something.

"It'll be fun," he said with a creepily playful tone.

"Until we get caught by the police."

"We won't though. C'mon, you just moved here from Denmark. You're legal there; I bet you've had alcohol before."

"Yeah, but-"

"Don't you miss it?" Lukas asked, giving him the most innocent expression.

"Yeah, but-"

His intense blue eyes stared into Matthias', silently pleading amidst all their stoicism. The tease. "I thought you wanted to hang out with me."

That was the final nail in the coffin. "Alright, I'll go."

"Great. Oh, you have a car, right? I need a ride."

"Yes, of course I- wait a minute. Is that the only reason you invited me in the first place?" It didn't really surprise him, but it was still a bit of a dick move on Lukas' part.

Lukas flashed him the barest hint of a smirk. "Maybe."

And thus Matthias achieved his longtime (well, if you would consider one week a long time) goal of hanging with Lukas at the expense of his innocence in the eyes of the law and quite possibly his dignity.

_"You and I are in danger_

_I don't stay in love that way_

_And the love of a stranger_

_Doesn't really make my day"_

~ "Lucky Guy", _The Muffs, _The Muffs


	6. Testosterone Boys

**Nicotine: is a potent parasympathomimetic alkaloid found in the nightshade family of plants and a highly addictive stimulant drug.**

"Bye, mom!" Matthias called from the front door to his house the next evening. "I'm going out!"

"Where are you going?" His mother replied, Not leaving the kitchen . "Lukas' again?"

The hint of suspicion in her tone told Matthias that he would not be leaving the house without a fight, and that his mother was probably going to enforce some insanely early curfew upon him. She had yet to meet Lukas, but still she seemed to disapprove of him (not that meeting Lukas would change that)."Well, sort of. We're going over to his friend's house for a, uh..." Oh shit, he was stuck. His mom would never let him out of the house if she knew he was going to a party. He needed a better word that sounded more innocent... "Get-together. Yeah."

"Are you done with your homework?"

Matthias rolled his eyes, smirk returning to his face. "Yeah."

"Will you be back by nine?" Oh, and there was the insanely early curfew.

"What about midnight?" he asked hopefully. No way would Lukas let him leave so early.

"Nine," she insisted.

"C'mon, mom! It's not even a weeknight!"

"Fine, eleven." Though he couldn't see her, he could tell her face was contorting into a scowl, and he knew that there would be no further leeway given.

He relented. "Alright, eleven then."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Lukas heard a few excited knocks on the door. He cursed under his breath; he really needed a cigarette, and he didn't exactly want to smoke in front Matthias. He was absolutely certain that the nerd would be on his case for the rest of the night, nagging him about how unhealthy they were. That would be obnoxious.

Nonetheless, seeing as he didn't have time for one anymore, he got up and answered the door. An excited Dane stood on his doorstep.

"Hi, Lukas! You ready?"

"Yes," he replied blandly. "Are you?"

"Yeah, totally— well, I think. Anyway, let's go!" And so the two got in Matthias' car (which was parked in the driveway) and set off for the party.

After a few moments of blissful silence, Matthias spoke again. "Okay, I have a question. If we're going to be drinking, how exactly are we going to drive back?"

Lukas smirked. "We're not going to be drinking. You're going to be drinking."

Matthias furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"I don't drink," Lukas explained simply. "I tried it once and hated it." He kept his answer purposefully vague. It really wasn't the taste of the alcohol that got to him. Actually, it was the lack of control he had while drunk that he truly detested. Not being in control of his emotions really worried him, but Matt didn't need to know that.

"Okay." Matthias probably knew better than to question at this point.

Finally, Lukas cracked. "Do you mind if I smoke?"

Matthias was silent for a moment before saying, "Uh, I'd prefer it if you didn't."

But, since his acquaintance had not strictly forbidden it, he removed a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lit it up.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

"Don't worry; I can roll the window down."

"Didn't I just say not to do that?" He stole a vexed glare toward Lukas, not daring to look away from the road for more than a few moments. He was still kind of new to driving, and an accident probably wouldn't help their situation.

Lukas took a slow, lingering drag of his cigarette, and replied, "Technically, you didn't." He rolled down the window, cool autumn air blowing in and making them both shiver. "Better?"

"It better not smell like tobacco when we get back." He paused, allowing a small smile to return to his face. "Look, I don't really care if you wanna give yourself lung cancer, but my mom'll kill me if she thinks I'm smoking."

Well, that... Wasn't what he had expected. "You're really okay with me smoking?"

The nerd let out a little laugh. "What is it with you? I thought you wanted me to leave it alone, and now you act like you're asking my permission. Why should I say how I feel, if you're just going to ignore me anyway?"

"I'm not going to ignore you," Lukas countered. "I just might not always do what you say. I only wanted to know your opinion." He brought the cigarette to his lips again, making sure most of the smoke went through the window.

"Fine. I don't like it," he admitted. "You're inhaling dozens of poisonous substances, and if you don't quit, you run the risk if contracting emphysema or cancer. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Great."

Silence.

"Oh, we need to be home by eleven," Matthias told him.

"Lemme guess: your mom told you to?"

He winced. "Uh, yeah.

Lukas snorted. "Your mom seems like a pain in the ass."

"Eh, she's not that bad. Just a bit overprotective."

Lukas begged to differ. "Isn't she the one that's made you late to a third of our rehearsals?"

"Hey, that was for a good reason!" But, noticing the dubious look Lukas was giving him, he added an unsure "Well, kind of..."

His bandmate's face remained unchanged. "What do you mean, 'kind of'?"

"Well, she just wants to make sure I'm done with my homework before I go anywhere," he elaborated. "That, and I don't think she likes you."

"Doesn't like me? She's never even met me."

"No, and you should feel lucky she hasn't. She thinks you're..." He stuttered, looking for the proper word. "Y'know, like me."

"A dork?"

Matthias nodded. "Exactly! She'd never let me hang out with you if she knew you were... That."

"And why the hell not? Who does she think she is?" His words were angry, but his tone was impassive. "Your mom sucks."

"What, don't like her?" the Dane iterated. "You've never even met her."

"Shut up."

"You've got a double-standard," Matthias continued, suppressing his smile.

"This is completely different."

"How?"

Lukas was afraid he'd ask that. "Shut up," he said again.

"Not very convincing, Luke," he argued, no longer able to keep from letting out a small laugh. "This isn't any different; you just want it to be."

"I said shut up!" His voice was not particularly loud, but his tone made it rather apparent that he was angry.

Matthias rolled his eyes. "Sorry, sorry. God, you sound like you've never had an overprotective parent before."

Lukas visibly flinched, quickly averting his gaze out the window. "Not for a couple years, I haven't," he mumbled in response, voice barely above a whisper.

"What was that?" Matthias asked, chancing another glance in Lukas' direction.

Lukas inwardly panicked— had he honestly said that aloud? Now he would have to come up with a decent response, or worse: explain his answer.

Or at least, he would have, if he had not noticed at that moment that his friend's house was right there. "We're here," he said. "His driveway's right up there, to the right." He gestured toward his friend's house.

"Um, I'm not sure if I'll fit in the driveway," Matthias observed, nodding at the five or six cars crowding the small drive, in addition to the two or three that had given up on the driveway and parked on the side of the road.

"Great observation," Lukas replied, his statement literally dripping with sarcasm. "Park on the side of the road."

His bandmate raised an eyebrow. "You mean I have to parallel park this thing?"

"Are you trying to imply that you've never parallel parked a car?"

"Um… Maybe?"

"Oh my God…" Lukas pinched the bridge of his nose. "You really are an idiot."

"Hey, I've only been driving for about a month!" He put his hands up defensively. "I moved here from Copenhagen, remember?"

"Fine, whatever. Just give me the wheel, okay?"

* * *

After that ordeal, the two entered the house without knocking (which Lukas apparently thought was totally okay). It seemed that most people were too smashed to even notice their arrival, dancing to music that was just loud enough that one would have to shout to be heard over the throbbing of the bass. The house itself would have been rather nice had people not littered the floor with red solo cups and paper plates, or TP-ed the otherwise luxurious chandelier that was gently swaying in its place. After people watching for a few minutes, Matthias turned to Lukas. "Huh. It kinda looks like everyone came here for the alcohol. If you don't like drinking, why'd you come?"

"Business," he replied simply.

"Business?"

"We haven't had a gig in months, and we're finally good enough to play shows again," he elaborated without emotion. "The host owns a club downtown."

"Oh, really?" Matthias had a hard time believing that. Most club owners didn't have houses this grand, and if they did, they didn't invite high school and college-aged kids over to have loud, disastrous parties.

"Yeah, Antonio Fernandez. He's pretty chill, but we need proof that we're functional before he'll let us play."

"Which is why I'm here?" He figured there had to be a catch. Lukas would not have invited him if he could have invited someone else.

"Exactly," Lukas agreed. "Honestly, had I really wanted a ride, I could have asked Berwald or Tino."

"Hmm…" A drunken young man accidentally spilled his beer on the carpet, yelling something about how awesome he was and how well he could supposedly hold his alcohol. "This host must have a pretty sweet club. How can he afford this house?"

Lukas smirked. "The club's shit. Good music, but the club itself is close to going out of business. He lives with his boyfriend's family. His boyfriend's uncle is the CEO of some major company of some sort, and he's away on business this week." His cigarette was finally finished, so he he disposed of it in a nearby glass jar that did not look like it should be used for the disposal of cigarettes, but really, how would Matthias know?

Okay, so they could get in trouble with both the police and the owner of a large business. "Sounds like fun."

"Fuck yeah. Want a drink?"

Matthias furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't understand. Why are you so set on getting me drunk when you don't even drink yourself?"

"You've been eyeing the beer cooler for the last five minutes," the punk pointed out with an eye roll that was accentuated by his thick black eyeliner (which looked really badass in Matthias' opinion.) "I can take a hint."

"Oh, you…" He bit his lip in embarrassment. "You noticed that?"

"Yeah. You tend to look at me when I'm talking to you. Here, go get a beer, then meet me over there. You see that happy-looking guy over there with the nice ass?" Nice ass? Wasn't that sort of subjective— oh shit. No, it wasn't. That was undeniably a nice ass. "You know," he added for clarity, "next to the grouchy guy who looks like he walked out of a men's fashion magazine?"

Matthias nodded, acknowledging the fashionable brunet the other man had wrapped an arm around. "Yep."

"That's Antonio, and the grouchy one's his boyfriend, Lovino. We're gonna go talk to him, and see if we can schedule a show or two. Try to be at least a little bit more…" He seemed to contemplate his word choice here, before settling for "not you."

Matthias winced. Yeah, nerds probably didn't have the best rep here. "Got it."

After retrieving a can of beer from the cooler and wading through the crowd, he met up with Lukas again, who was already conversing with Antonio.

"Oh! Is this the drummer you were talking about?"

Lukas turned, just noticing Matthias, before looking back at the other man. "Yes, this is him."

Matthias waved. "Hi," he greeted timidly, a bit intimidated by the other man. Antonio looked to be in his mid-twenties (quite a bit older than most other party-goers), and had an air of confidence about him that easily outshone Matthias' (which was actually rather difficult to do).

"Hey, we were just talking about you! I like your hair; how long does it take to spike it like that?"

"Oh, that's natural," he replied with a short laugh. While the man had seemed a bit over-zealous, he also seemed to have a rather happy atmosphere, and Matthias found himself quickly calming down. "It works for the whole punk band thing though, doesn't it?"

Antonio giggled, his voice melodious and strong. "Yes, it definitely does. So, you can play the drums?"

"Yup. I'd like to think in pretty good at it, too." He really didn't like bragging, especially to those he'd just met, but obviously he needed to prove he could play if he wanted to get Lukas his gig.

Lukas spoke up. "He's actually very talented. He beats Gilbert, at least."

The annoyed-looking boy next to Antonio (what was his name again? Lovino?) butt in. "Everyone's better than that stupid drunken idiot! Have you heard him?"

"Yes, I have." Lukas smiled. "I also heard he joined your band."

"Shut up! We were desperate!"

"Boys, boys!" Antonio interjected. "Calm down! Luke, I can see your point. I still let Lovi's band play even though their drummer is less than great, but their band is special to me. Just how good is this drummer?"

Lukas shrugged. "I'd say he's at least as good as Alfred, if not better. And I'm not just saying that because he left my band."

Antonio thought for a moment. "Alright, I'll let you play. I trust that you know what you're doing. Does Friday night work? I can give you a half-hour slot between eight-thirty and nine."

"That should be fine," the punk replied. "We'll be there. Thank you, Antonio."

"No problem, Luke! Good luck!"

"Thank you," he said again as the club owner and his boyfriend made their way to the dance floor. He turned to Matthias. "Alright, we can go have fun now."

"Okay, cool!" Having emptied his can, he went and got another before starting to casually drink and socialize with Lukas and his various acquaintances.

* * *

The party raged on all night, and Matthias was already on his fifth can of beer when Lukas decided he needed some time away from the crowds. "I'll be right back," he told his drunken bandmate, turning and walking away.

He found himself smoking on the balcony, which was attached to a rather ostentatious second-storey sitting room with wine-stained couches and classy but askew paintings on the walls. It was quiet, and he could feel the late November wind nipping at his skin.

He sat and smoked and reflected to himself, perfectly at peace until he heard a cocky, mocking voice behind his back.

"Well if it isn't our little princess," the voice said. "What are you doing here, Lukas?"

"Fuck off, Arthur." Lukas rolled his eyes. "I came out here to be alone."

"No," the Brit countered. "You came out here to smoke."

He turned to meet his gaze. "I came out here to smoke alone."

"So you have, so you have..." Arthur pause for a moment. "I like your new boyfriend. He's feisty, and very hot."

Yes, feisty. Just the way Lukas liked them.

Just like Arthur.

"Matthias is not my boyfriend," he countered venomously. "He's not even my friend. He's just my bandmate."

"Yes, just keep telling yourself that. I hear he's a decent drummer?" He looked doubtful.

"Better than Alfred." Lukas was feeling rather cocky this evening— or perhaps that was just from being around Arthur.

"Well, I don't know about that, but he's got to be better than Gilbert."

"I'm a better drummer than Gilbert, and I've never picked up a pair of sticks." He almost felt bad; Gilbert was getting all the hate tonight. "And yes, he is definitely better than Alfred." He crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt look manly and intimidating.

Which backfired, by the way. "Oh, Lukas, you're adorable with that little pout. But no, Alfred's definitely the most talented drummer." He was relentless wasn't he?

"I guess we'll find out at the school concert, won't we?"

"Yes, I suppose we will." He sighed contentedly. "Anyway, I have better things to do than tease you right now. I'll see you around, Luke." And with that he left, leaving Lukas alone to ponder what Arthur had just implied:

_Do I really like Matthias?_

* * *

_"I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck_  
_Than any boy you'll ever meet, sweetie you had me_  
_Girl I was it, look past the sweat, a better love deserving of_  
_Exchanging body heat in the passenger seat?_  
_No, no, no, you know it will always just be me_

_Let's get these teen hearts beating. Faster, faster_  
_So testosterone boys and harlequin girls,_  
_Will you dance to this beat, and hold a lover close?"_

~"Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off",_ A Fever You Can't Sweat Out_, Panic! At the Disco


	7. Chemicals Kickin' In

**Common Denominator: In mathematics, the lowest common denominator is the smallest common multiple of the denominators of a set of fractions. It simplifies adding, subtracting, and comparing fractions. Any common denominator will do, but usually the lowest common denominator is desirable because it makes the rest of the calculation as simple as possible.**

* * *

_"Lukas," Arthur said, staring at the ground. "I need to tell you something."_

_"Yes?" he replied, a small smile on his face. Arthur was so cute when he seemed worried._

_"I... Francis and I..." Oh no. "We've been going out."_

_"What?" He hadn't expected that at all. He'd never expected Arthur to cheat on him, especially not with his mortal enemy._

_How had this happened?_

_"Lukas, I'm sorry." He kept his gaze concentrated on the floor, biting his lip in agitation. Lukas could sense his fear, frustration, and sadness, but no regret._

_"No, you're not."_

_The Brit finally jerked his head up, glaring at Lukas with intense, angry, green eyes. "Would you at least give me the benefit of the doubt?" His expression softened. "Look, I know you didn't deserve this, and I know you never want to see my face again-"_

_"You're right," Lukas retorted, having heard more than enough of his ex's bullshit. "I never want to see your face again."_

_Arthur took a moment to flounder for an eloquent response, before settling on a simple, "Fuck you!"_

_Lukas grinned. "Already did that, and it was not nearly as satisfying as I told you it was."_

_"Oh, please!" he scoffed. "You're just hurt because I'm breaking up with you."_

_"And you're just hurt because I just insulted your bedroom skills. Honestly, it's no big deal. You don't love me, you've never loved me, you're a dick, and you're breaking up with me. No more, no less." Lukas honestly didn't want to discuss this at length. It was bad enough he was getting dumped. He didn't want to have to deal with such unreliable things as emotions along with this ordeal._

_But Arthur wouldn't hear it. "That's an exaggeration, Lukas, and you know it!"_

_"The only thing I don't understand is why you're still here. We have nothing more to discuss; why don't you just leave?" Lukas smirked once more. If that didn't get him to leave, he didn't know what would._

_"You want me to leave? Fine then!" He turned, and as he walked away he added, "Goodbye! I hope I never have to see your fucking face again!"_

_Lukas waited until he was out of earshot to speak. "You too, Arthur," he said. "You too."_

* * *

"Lukas." Antonio tapped the boy on the shoulder. They were backstage, and the band was setting up. "You're on in twenty minutes, okay? Make sure everything's ready."

He nodded. "Noted," he replied, quickly glancing around the room. "I think we're all set."

"Good, good. Just one question."

"Yes?"

"Your drummer, the one with the spiky hair, where is he?"

Lukas' eyes widened in realization. "Shit."

Antonio gave him a consolatory pat on the shoulder. "I'll give you five extra minutes, okay?"

"Thank you," Lukas said as the man walked away.

"Tino?" he yelled (yes, he could tell when he wanted to; there was a reason he was in a punk band). "Get over here!"

The boy ran over, alert and ready to receive orders. Perfect. "What is it?" he asked.

"I need you to call around to see if there are any backup drummers willing to play. We might not have Matthias."

He furrowed his brow. "What? Why not?"

Lukas sighed. "I don't know, because he's an idiot? Either way, we need a drummer just in case."

"Got it," he said, and he walked off without further question.

Meanwhile, Lukas pulled out his own cell phone and dialed Matthias' number.

The Dane answered on the first ring. "Hey, Lukas! What's up?"

"It's me, asshole," he greeted politely, "and where the fuck are you? We're on in twenty-three minutes."

"Oh, uh..." He trailed off, flustered. "Yeah, um, about that..."

Lukas face-palmed. "Oh my God. You are not getting out if this. Get your ass down here or you're out of the band." When in doubt, act intimidating and threaten people. That always seems to work.

"Look Luke..." To Lukas' surprise, Matthias actually sounded sorry, like he actually cared what he thought of him. "I really don't wanna let you down, but..."

"What?" he asked, desperate for an explanation.

"I'm grounded."

Lukas snorted. The nerd. "You think I care? Sneak out."

"Sneak out!" He sounded highly uncomfortable and a bit shocked at the very thought of sneaking out against his mother' sword. "I'm in enough trouble already! My mom found out I was drinking."

"She didn't have a problem in Denmark," Lukas pointed out with an eye roll.

"I was legal in Denmark," Matthias countered.

"Well, your mom's a bitch anyway." Before his friend could argue, he continued, "Look, we can probably pick you up if you need. Can you sneak out through the window?"

There was a pause. "I think so."

"Alright. I'm sending Berwald. He'll call you when he gets there."

"Okay."

And with that, Lukas hung up.

* * *

Matthias typically wasn't much the rule-breaker. He'd never really seen the point in it, to be honest. He thought that going against the rules was kind of stupid. More trouble than it was worth.

So why was he so excited? This could get him in more trouble than he'd ever known. Besides, he was still being punished for another infraction. This was pretty much just asking for trouble. Yet, as he slipped on an uncharacteristically cool leather jacket, he found the idea of sneaking out more and more alluring.

What was happening to him? It was almost as if he actually enjoyed doing reckless things or something.

But he had no further time to ponder this, for at that moment his cell phone rang, Berwald's name showing up on the caller ID.

"Hey, Ber! You out there?" he asked excitedly, keeping his voice to a stage whisper for the sake of stealth.

"Yup," was the Swede's mumbled response, only made less intelligible by the static of the phone.

Matthias smiled. "Okay, I'll be right out."

He did a quick mirror check, still a bit uncomfortable with his attire. The leather jacket and jeans look was rather flattering on him, but something seemed awry. Perhaps the lack of a button-down collared shirt, or the general cool vibe the outfit gave off.

Either way, Matthias realized he was keeping his bandmate waiting, so he opened the window... Only to realize he was on the second storey. "Oh. That's right."

How exactly had he forgotten that?

He called Berwald's cell again. He could see him down below, but yelling out to him might get him caught. "Hey, Ber?"

"Yes?"

"Uh..." He paused. "You're pretty tall, right?"

"S'pose so. Why'd ya ask?"

"Well, you see, I kinda just noticed that I'm fifteen feet off the ground, and I may or may not need help getting down..."

Matthias swore he could hear Berwald face-palming. "One sec," he replied. Then the line went dead.

Only a few moments later, Matthias saw him standing below his window.

"Okay, cool. You're here. So, should I jump or something? And you'll catch me?"

The Swede shrugged in response, leaving the decision entirely up to Matthias.

"Fine, don't talk then. I guess I'll jump."

And so he did – or rather, he grabbed the ledge and lowered himself as far as he could, then let go. Berwald caught him without problem (though it was a bit awkward). They got in the car, setting off for Antonio's club.

The car was completely silent for at least two minutes, neither having anything good to say to the other.

It was during this time that Matthias realized he had never been alone with him before. Berwald was the only remaining bandmate he had not connected with yet.

Weird.

Truthfully, he didn't really know that much about Berwald. He'd heard offhanded remarks from Tino, but other than that, the Swede was a complete stranger to him.

That was when Berwald of all people decided to break the silence. "So... Lukas, huh?"

Matthias choked on his spit. "What? I, uh... No, I don't- I mean, I'm not-"

Berwald took a hand off the wheel, holding it up to keep Matthias from speaking more.

"How did you know?"

Berwald gave him a sidelong glare, then rolled his eyes.

Matthias sighed. "Okay, so it may be a bit obvious. What about it?"

"Why?" he asked bemusedly.

All was silent for a moment as Matthias furrowed his brow in thought. "Well," he finally said, "he's kinda got this mysterious thing going for him. It makes me want to know more about him. And he's really smart and witty."

Berwald nodded slowly.

"I guess I can see why you're so skeptical though. I mean really, it's not like he seems that likable or anything. He just seems like a jerk on the outside, but..."

Berwald gave him another glance, eyebrow cocked in question.

"Yeah, I guess I've only scratched the surface. I barely even know him... What does he do for fun? What is his family line? God, I have so many questions for him if he'd only listen."

Silence.

"But I can do it! I promised myself I would, and I will. You can't stop me with your pessimism, Berwald!" Matthias as if the Swede had uttered more than two words in the conversation.

The conversation might have continued from that point, had they not arrived right then. He parked the car and muttered, "We're here," under his breath.

* * *

The concert itself was rather successful overall. There were a few minor errors and the likes, but it was actually rather good for a first concert. They were payed accordingly by Antonio, and then they went their separate ways for the night – well, for the most part.

"Alright, enlighten me," Lukas said impatiently. The cold, late autumn wind blew his hair about, and gave rise to goosebumps on his arms. "Why didn't we get a ride with Tino?"

"He left the minute the concert ended," Emil pointed out, notably less affected by the cold. He, unlike his brother, had brought a coat, and he happened to find his brother's discomfort rather amusing.

"Yup, and now you're stuck with me!" Matthias added helpfully.

Lukas rolled his eyes. "Great, that's just what I wanted. How far do you have to walk, anyway?"

"About five miles," he said nonchalantly, as if five miles in below-freezing weather was habitual for him (it totally wasn't, by the way. He just didn't want to complain).

Emil gave a low whistle. "Yeah, good luck with that. God, you aren't even wearing a coat, are you?"

"Yeah," Lukas added, "what's up with that leather shit, anyway?"

"I thought it'd look cool." He bit his chapped lips in thought for a moment before he retorted, "It sure beats a tank top, though. You can't argue with that."

"I have a reputation to uphold."

"That didn't stop me."

"Well, you're different."

"How so?"

"Oh, don't even get me started."

"C'mon, Luke," Emil interjected. "You're both social outcasts, you both like making music, you're both too smart for your own good, and you both like ticking each other off. You're pretty much the same person."

"Uh..." Matthias raised an eyebrow in suspicion. There had to be some sort of logical fallacy there, right? There was no way that was true.

"We are not. We fall on opposite ends of the spectrum in each case."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Do I even need to?"

"I think I beat you. Sure, Matthias is a dork and you think you're some sort of cool punk dude, but in the end you're both just losers in a band together."

And them Lukas gave no response at all, finally defeated.

Emil smiled inwardly. Maybe now the two would realize they had more in common than they had thought.

All these common denominators, unleashed in the space if just a few minutes...

He was a genius – in his opinion, that is.

* * *

_Here we are again_  
_I feel the chemicals kickin' in_  
_It's getting heavy_  
_And I wanna run and hide_  
_I wanna run and hide_

~"Animal", _Habits_, Neon Trees


	8. Never Be Divided

**Covert Operation: an operation that is so planned and executed as to conceal the identity of or permit plausible denial by the sponsor.**

* * *

Most of the time, there was an unspoken hierarchy among the Nordic Five. Lukas used to be the unquestioned leader, and though Matthias was clearly rather fond of taking charge as well, Lukas still remained somewhat of a dictator to the band.

As such, it was a complete shock when Tino of all people called an official band meeting at his house. Not that anyone was really complaining— the Väinämöinen household was cozy, and Tino's mom gave them all hot cocoa and sugar cookies. It was just rather strange, and it raised many questions in the minds of the remaining band members.

Why hold a meeting?

Who had elected Tino leader?

What on earth was Ms. Väinämöinen's cookie recipe?

The room was abuzz, disorganized from the confusion this mild plot twist had caused.

Tino, meanwhile, fumed. Everyone seemed very keen on asking what this meeting was about, but nobody had bothered asking him, even though he was the one who had called the meeting in the first place.

He hadn't realized quite the extent to which the mindless prattle agitated him until he snapped a cookie in half on accident, crumbs suddenly scattering in an array across his lap. "Goddammit, shut up!" he yelled, seeing red.

Everyone suddenly fell completely silent, probably out of fear. The Finn could be intimidating when he wanted to be, despite what one would assume.

"Why are we here, Tino?" Lukas finally asked, gaze concentrated on his bandmate.

Tino took a moment to think after he realized everyone was listening. He didn't want to go off on a tangent as per usual when he was put on the spot. "Okay," he started. "So, you know how the concert's only three months away?"

Collective nods and murmured agreements.

But there were still four pairs of eyes boring into him, staring into his soul.

"Well," he began to explain, heart starting to beat just a little faster, cold sweat starting to form on his hands. "I was thinking... Y'know, we might wanna have a game plan, or, like, a strategy? Maybe? Because, if you remember what happened last time with the sabotage... Well, uh, we don't want that to happen again, uh, right? So maybe if we came up with some sort of plan to beat them and avoid their attacks, we might be able to win the contest. And that'd be good, right? I mean, if you guys don't think it's worth it, then I guess we don't have to, but-"

"Tino!" Emil exclaimed, cutting Tino off.

"Oh, sorry," he replied with a blush. "I'm talking too much, aren't I? Sorry, it's just a bit scary with everyone's eyes on me, and I'm sorry-"

"Tino, shut up!" Emil interrupted again. "You're fine, and I don't know about the rest of us, but I think your idea's great."

"Really?"

Emil gave each of the others an expectant glare. Each was unique, and each expressed varying degrees of disdain and impatience.

"Uh, yeah, seems fine," Matthias said, still trying to comprehend what exactly Tino was talking about (in all honesty, he had never quite gotten used to the Finn's rambles).

Berwald, ever the supportive (though strong and silent) boyfriend, nodded in affirmation. "Sounds good."

"I don't see why not," Lukas said. "What's your plan?"

"Oh... Oh. Okay! So... Uh... Okay, just a second," he floundered, still trying to calm down.

After a few deep breaths, he started again. With unwavering confidence, he said, "Alright, my idea relies mainly on spying and blackmail."

Berwald raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Aren't you, like, morally opposed to that or something?" Emil asked. Before Matthias had joined the band, Tino had been regarded as the innocent-yet-mature one, who kept the others in line with his morality. Things had changes, to say the least.

"Hey," he replied with a shrug, "they'd do the same to us, so in my book we're even. Anyway, you know how Berwald and I both babysit Peter?"

That's when Matthias, still confused, raised his hand. "Uh, who's Peter?"

Lukas smirked, realizing the brilliance of Tino's plan. "He's Arthur Kirkland's little brother."

"Exactly!" Tino replied eagerly. "Well, the kid totally hates Arthur, and we could definitely get some decent blackmail off of him. We could also get him to spy on the band so we can see what they're doing."

"Sounds good," Lukas said. "Is that all?"

"Well, we need to worry about our own security as well. I was thinking that since you and Emil could cover that, since the studio's in your house. Is that okay? "

"Yeah, that sounds great, Tino," Emil replied before turning to the others. "Any objections?"

Silence.

"I'll take that as a yes, " Emil finally concluded, ending all further discussion. "Okay, now the real question: what the fuck did your mom put in these cookies? Because these are amazing."

* * *

Lukas wasn't even surprised when Matthias followed Emil and him home. Honestly, at this point he was almost expecting it. Hell, it had gotten to the point where Lukas was asking Matthias to come over.

What was happening to him? Some form of black magic?

He tried to get that thought out of his mind as quickly as possible. Black magic reminded him of Arthur. But he digressed.

"Please, Lukas?" Matthias whined once they were comfortably situated in the Bondeviks' messy living room.

"I already said 'no'," he responded.

"But why not?"

"Because you won't get it. What kinda music do you listen to, anyway?" he asked skeptically.

Matthias drew a blank. "Whatever's on the radio, I dunno!" He paused before helpfully adding, "I like a lot of Eurovision songs."

The punk perked up a bit. "Lordi?" Sure, they were metal, but metal was closer to punk than pop was.

"Before my time."

He raised an eyebrow. "They were 2006."

"Yeah, before my time," Matthias repeated, undaunted.

"You were born in '98."

The nerd nodded, not seeing his point. "Yup."

Lukas let out an impatient sigh. "Fine. So, you're pop trash, then."

"You're punk trash," he shot back.

The other boy scoffed. "Which is clearly superior to pop trash."

"Which is exactly why I want you to show me some punk music." Matthias smirked in confidence, knowing his opponent had been beaten.

The awkward silence that followed could have been cut with a knife.

"Fine, fine," Lukas relented. "Let's start with some stuff you've probably heard of before. You know the Clash?"

"The who?"

"No, that's a rock band," he replied, feeling very proud of the pun he'd just made. 'Teenage Wasteland' suddenly got stuck in his head. "The Clash was a first wave punk band from the UK."

"Uhh... The who?"

Clearly, Matthias knew nothing about this.

"Shut up. It was a bad joke, anyway." Perhaps he'd heard a popular song by them... He tried again. "Y'know the song 'London Calling'?"

Matthias shook his head.

"Here, gimme that bass..." He gestured to the bass guitar in the corner of the room, which wasn't quite so good as Berwald's (which was a state-of-the-art model and cost more than Lukas could dream of affording, despite the lucrative pay of dealing pot), but it was playable nonetheless. Lukas strummed a few notes, easily plucking out the bass line.

He turned to him. "Now do you recognize it?"

"Yeah, that sounds really familiar! Is that the Clash?"

Lukas nodded. "Yes. Perhaps you're more familiar with 'Should I Stay or Should I Go'? Or 'I Fought the Law'?"

"Well, duh!" Matthias replied, rolling his eyes. In retrospect, Lukas realized he probably should have mentioned those first.

"That's also the Clash. You should listen to more by them; they're great. What else... Maybe I should introduce you to some new wave stuff. Something out of the late LA punk scene should work. It's less... Hardcore. More melodic. You'd probably enjoy it." Lukas suppressed a small smile that was threatening to tug on his face. Matthias would never let him live that down.

"O...kay?" Clearly he was confused, but Lukas had expected that much.

"Try out Suicidal Tendencies..." he said, immediately regretting it. Sure, he loved that band, but would Matthias? "Actually, scratch that. The Muffs or Green Day would be better. "

"I thought Green Day wasn't actually punk."

His eyes widened a fraction. "Oh, so you've done your research." Lukas was genuinely surprised, and a little bit touched. Perhaps he'd actually put some effort into this, and had decided to ask his help for further clarification.

Or maybe he'd just gotten lazy.

Actually, that made more sense. What was he thinking?

"A bit," Matthias replied with a blush, averting his gaze as he adjusted his glasses.

Truthfully, the gestures made Lukas want to roll his eyes. Abashment did not suit the Dane one whit.

Lukas decided to play it cool, though the fact that he had to actually think about it and put up an act scared him a little. "Nice. It's great to know know that you can use a search engine. Green Day's not punk anymore, and they're not from LA, either. They started in Berkeley, which also had a decent punk scene. Then they sold out and got kicked out for being too mainstream."

"Damn straight!" Emil called from his post in the kitchen, where he was supposed to be doing his homework. Apparently, he'd decided this conversation was more important. "Green Day's the epitome of mainstream pop trash."

Well, pop trash was an exaggeration. They weren't flat-out pop, they just weren't punk. At least Matthias wasn't a Directioner, right? But Lukas supposed that as a devout hipster, it was Emil's responsibility to attack everything more mainstream than, say, a garage band, or maybe an incredibly obscure indie band.

"So, what should I listen to, if their later stuff is pop trash?" The Dane asked.

"Anything you've never heard of," Lukas responded automatically. Wow, maybe he and Emil really were alike. That was a bit frightening.

"Got it. Anything else?"

"Once you're done with those, try out Suicidal Tendencies. They yell more than you're probably used to, but their lyrics are pretty sweet."

"Alright," he said, finality apparent in his tone. He paused, glancing at his watch, before letting out an exasperated sigh. "Sorry, Luke, I've gotta go. My mom's been on my case lately. I'll see you guys tomorrow, okay? "

That damned woman. Lukas swore he'd kill her one day, if Matthias didn't wise up and do so first.

Which made Lukas wonder when his avoidance and abhorrence of his bandmate had transitioned into spending time with his new best friend.

"Okay," he said distractedly, still having to put effort into the neutrality of his tone "Bye."

"Bye!" And with that, the Dane showed himself out.

He got all of two second's peace before Emil came in, a mischievous grin playing on his features. "Lukas..." he cooed in a mocking tone, and Lukas knew he was in for a long, tedious conversation.

Things got scary when Emil was happy – especially when he was happy around Lukas.

"Yes?" he asked warily.

Emil sat next to him, uncharacteristically wrapping an arm around his shoulder. His face drew nearer, until his lips were nearly touching Lukas' ear. Then, quietly and slyly, he whispered, "You like him, don't you?"

Lukas feigned gagging. "That's disgusting."

"Keep telling yourself that." Emil waggled his eyebrows.

Needless to say, Lukas felt uncomfortable. Not only was his brother being unnecessarily touchy-feely (yuck), but he'd also discovered a nagging crush that Lukas was still in denial of.

His brother snorted.

"What?" The punk furrowed his eyebrows in frustration.

"Lukas," he responded, laughter in his eyes, "your face is bright red."

Seeing as he had no further excuses or cop-outs, Lukas decided to give up. "Alright, you got me. And? It's not like I can do anything about it."

"And why not?"

"Well, for one, he doesn't like me," Lukas pointed out.

Emil booped his nose, which must have been the strangest thing Lukas had ever experienced. Was the boy sleep-deprived, drunk, or did he just feel like making him uncomfortable? "I wouldn't be so sure about that," he said in the same condescending manner he'd been using since the start of the conversation.

Cocky bastard.

"What? Why not?"

He shrugged. "Why would he hang out with you so much if he didn't?"

"I guess that's a good point, but wasn't he just doing that to prove that I'm not a jerk or something?" Lukas seemed to recall Matthias saying something along those lines the day they'd met.

Concerned, Emil withdrew his arms and dropped the act altogether. "Do you really think so little of yourself?"

Lukas didn't even need to think about his response to that question. "Yes."

The other boy paused for a beat before remarking, "Well, that's just sad," before biting his lip.

"Did you come here to give me a pep talk or mock me?" Lukas finally asked, because honestly, he had no idea.

A small smile returned to Emil's face. "I tend to do both. Just ask Leon; he'll tell you."

"What's going on between you and Leon, anyway?" He changed the subject.

"What do you mean?"

Lukas turned to meet his gaze. "Well, you have been spending a lot of time together..."

"Ew, that's gross. We're friends, not, like, boyfriends, or whatever you were alluding to there."

Lukas rolled his eyes. "Slanderous lies."

Emil followed suit, also rolling his violet eyes. "Ugh, we weren't supposed to be talking about that anyway. We're supposed to be talking about your relationship with Matthias, which Lizzy and I totally ship, by the way."

"Lizzy..." Lukas stopped to think about who could possibly have had that nickname. "You mean Elizabeta? What does she have to do with this? And since when are you friends with Elizabeta?"

"Tumblr," he replied simply, as if that explained everything. "But that's beside the point. We need to find a way for you to get with Matthias."

"Okay, the what do you suggest? You're the one who's befriended the school matchmaker."

"Eh," Emil cringed. "I wouldn't call her a matchmaker. She just likes seeing happy couples get together."

"Well, whatever she is, she's good at it," Lukas observed, noting her work with Ludwig and Feliciano from the year prior, as well as Tino and Berwald during the last summer. "What do you think I should do?"

"That's the spirit," Emil said without a hint of irony. "Well, it doesn't look like he's good at sensing subtle hints. Otherwise he'd already know how you feel about him. You should probably be more straightforward."

"Look, I know how much you want me to ask him out," he said, combing a hand through the long hair to the right of his face, "but I still don't know if he likes me, and I don't want to embarrass myself." He had a reputation as a badass punk to uphold, and this would decimate it.

"No one said anything about asking him out except you." Emil poked his arm lightly. "Wow, you must be really committed... Anyway, I agree with you. That's why you should start flirting with him."

"What?" Oh, he had to be kidding.

"I'm serious! If he wants to, he'll take the hint. If he just wants to be friends, he can interpret it that way as well. It's foolproof!"

"Yes, clearly you're one of the greatest minds of our time," he said, sarcasm very evident in his tone. "Now, tell me this: what if he realizes my intentions and he doesn't want to be my boyfriend?"

Emil looked dubious. "Lukas, do you really think Matthias would be intelligent enough to pick up on something like that if he weren't looking for it?"

Lukas gave this some thought before deciding, "Fair enough. I'm in."

"Sweet!" the other boy exclaimed before standing up. "Be right back; I've gotta go text Leon. Operation Flirt's a go!"

Lukas made sure Emil was out of earshot before softly saying, "My brother... is a dork."

* * *

_"I don't want to be rejected_  
_I don't want to be denied_  
_Then its not my misfortune_  
_That I've opened up your eyes"_

~"If the Kids Are United", _The Adventures of the Hersham Boys_, Sham 69


	9. How Stupid

**Coquetry: a social and sometimes sexual activity involving verbal or written communication as well as body language by one person to another, suggesting an interest in a deeper relationship with the other person.**

* * *

Lukas wasn't the nervous type – or at the very least, he didn't seem to be the nervous type. He was very good at keeping his face blank in spite of any emotions he may have been feeling.

So, why could he feel his palms sweating? Why was he biting his bottom lip raw?

Why couldn't he just talk to him?

Honestly, there was no good reason for him to be afraid. He'd planned the entire thing with Emil last night. All he had to do was ask Matthias if he wanted to stay after rehearsal for dinner. Emil was a decent cook, and he was totally willing to make dinner for the two of them.

His little brother had been sure to make plans with his not-boyfriend, Leon, and Emil would step out right as dinner was starting, leaving Lukas and Matthias alone.

It was in that perfect zone where Matthias could easily interpret the evening as a date, but it could just as easily be a casual dinner shared between two good friends.

The plan was foolproof, save for one variable neither brother had bothered to take into account: Lukas' nerves.

At this point, the punk honestly didn't know whether his hands were shaking from fear or frustration— he was rather upset with himself, actually. Lukas was positive that others could see him shaking, which was decidedly not very punk rock. Really, he had a reputation to keep up, and this trembling thing was not helping at all.

Matthias was literally the five feet away. What the hell was wrong with-

"Hey, Lukas!"

Oh, shit. He'd caught him. What was he supposed to say now? Luckily, his mouth did the thinking for him, and he responded, "Hey, Mat."

"What's up?"

"Not much..." He paused. "Actually, I was wondering: what are you doing after school today?"

Mat raised an eyebrow. "Well, I was thinking of going to rehearsal..." His subtle sarcasm was rather charming.

Oh, that was right. Their band had rehearsal that afternoon. Wait, how had he forgotten that? Since when was he that stupid? Perhaps Matthias was rubbing off on him.

Without thinking, he said, "I meant after rehearsal, idiot." The idiot Lukas was referring to was himself, of course, and the scolding had been intended to be a self-deprecating blow at his own stupidity. However, he had said it aloud, and in that context, it sounded like he was directing his chide towards Matthias.

Perhaps he should correct himself..?

"Oh," the Dane replied ambiguously (had he been insulted?), rubbing the back of his neck. "I, ahh... I dunno, what do you want to do?" Oh, good. Matthias wasn't bothered.

Wait, why had he even been worried about that in the first place? Matthias had always ignored all his insults.

Okay, that was it. Lukas really needed to calm down.

Realizing he still had yet to respond, he finally suggested, "Maybe you could stay after?"

"Sure," Matthias said, though he sounded a bit skeptical. "Why?"

"Well..." he started, as rehearsed with his brother the night before. "Emil's a pretty good cook, and he was wondering if you wanted to stay for dinner. We could do something nerdy like homework, so your mother doesn't get suspicious."

Finally, the last glimmers of confusion dissipated from Matthias' face as he began to smile. "Sounds like fun. Sure, I'll come!"

Lukas had to suppress a totally unnecessary sigh of relief (because honestly, why would have Matthias said no?). "Great. See you after class, dork."

"Yup! You too!" And with that, they both parted ways as they headed to their next classes.

* * *

Rehearsal was ordinary – well, as ordinary as it could be, given the people in the band. They played some simple songs, Emil walked in fifteen minutes late, then they played some more complex stuff until Emil walked out fifteen minutes early complaining about Lukas' bitchiness. The four talked for a few more minutes before Tino and Berwald dispersed at four, hand in hand and still laughing at one of Matthias' jokes.

Yes, definitely a very average and expected rehearsal.

Except Operation Flirt was still underway. Sure, Emil had complained about Lukas as he walked out, but in actuality, he left for Lukas' sake.

They finished their homework in about an hour (they had already started before rehearsal), so Lukas spent the next few minutes trying to keep the Dane from going into the kitchen. Which, in Lukas' opinion, was useless, but Emil had insisted that he keep Mat out.

Finally, Emil finished making dinner, which really wasn't as awesome as he had claimed (really, if Lukas had known his brother was making spaghetti and garlic bread, he probably would have made dinner himself). He made some stupid excuse about his friend needing help with his homework, then set off to change into his most ironically unfashionable sweater and his skinniest pair of skinny jeans in preparation for what was totally not a date with his totally-not-a-boyfriend.

... And then there were two.

"So..." Matthias said, attempting to break the five minutes of awkward silence that had fallen between the two. "How are you doing?"

"Alright."

Well, that went nowhere. He tried again. "Uh, the food's good."

"Yes, it's decent." He furrowed his brows. "Never been a fan of tomatoes myself."

Matthias perked up a bit more at that statement. "Oh, that's too bad." He paused, contemplating. "Funny that Emil just took off after he ate it, huh."

Lukas struggled to keep himself calm. What if he found out that Emil had set them up? Trying his best to remain uninterested, he replied, "I suppose."

Another pause.

"Okay, I've gotta know," Matthias finally remarked.

"What?" Lukas shivered inwardly. Maybe he's been discovered.

Matthias continued. "I've been here almost every day for the last two months, and I haven't seen your parents once. Where are they? I mean, if it's private, then you don't have to tell me, but I'm really curious."

Oh. That. That was much easier, actually.

The punk shrugged. "They aren't around."

Matthias grew visibly distressed at that statement. "Not around, like-" he drew his finger across the air in front of his neck, making choking noises as he pretended to behead himself.

Lukas would have snorted had it been socially acceptable. "Well, one of them, yes." He languidly twirled some noodles around his fork before taking a careful bite. It looked surprisingly dainty for a guy with six piercings, dog tag necklaces, and torn clothing.

After he finished chewing, he continued, seeing as Matthias looked like he was expecting more. "My mother passed away in childbirth when I was two." Then, seeing Matthias' look of pity, he quickly added, "I don't even remember her. It's not a big deal." Well, it was, but Mat didn't need to know that. "My dad, on the other hand..."

"What? I mean, if you're comfortable-"

He held up a hand to stop him. "It's fine. He left three years ago, when I was fourteen. Haven't seen him since, and thank God for that. He was an asshole." That much at least was true. He'd never really liked his father, and the feeling was mutual. The minute Emil had graduated from elementary school, Mr. Bondevik was out the door.

"Wait, but how'd you keep custody of Emil?" Matthias was somewhat familiar with custody laws (as much as the average person would be, at least), and this sounded really illegal.

Then again, pretty much everything about Lukas was illegal.

"I was smart enough not to tell anyone," he said simply. "We don't have any extended family, and no one really knew the guy anyway. I've gotten along just fine forging his signature on all my forms."

Also illegal, but who was Mat to judge?

"So you've been raising Emil since he was, what, ten?" he asked, somewhat changing topics.

"Eleven."

He raised his eyebrows, nodding in admiration. "Impressive."

"It's not that bad. He's a good kid." Better than Lukas was, anyway.

Matthias opened his mouth to speak, but the shrill ringing of Lukas' phone cut him off.

Lukas glanced at the caller ID before telling the other boy that he had to take the call.

He picked up. "Yes, Gilbert? I..."

There was a long pause, and whatever Gilbert was saying must have been interesting, because Lukas started to grow agitated.

"Okay, shut up!" He finally bit back at him. "I can't understand a word you're saying... Can you just get Ludwig please? Thank you."

There was another pause before Lukas spoke again. "Hey, Ludwig. What's going on?... Five-hundred, you say? Sunday night sounds fine. Yes, we should be able to do that. This sounds like a great opportunity for advertisement. Thanks for the offer... I mean, we're still going to kick your band's asses at the Battle of the Bands, but I think we can agree to a temporary alliance against the Allies, right?... Good, good. We'll see you Sunday, Ludwig. Goodbye." And with that, he hung up.

"What was that?" Matthias asked, curiosity piqued.

"The Beilshmidts are hosting a party on Sunday," he explained. "It's supposed to be the biggest out-of-school event of the year, and they want us to play. For good money, too— a hundred a person. And when the school knows they picked us over the Allies..."

"We'll get more votes in the concert!" Matthias finished for him, noticeably more excited than Lukas (though Lukas did look rather excited).

He gave a small, satisfied smirk. "Precisely."

"That sounds awesome! How long does it go?"

Lukas inhaled sharply, knowing Matthias would probably take issue with his response. "All night," he said, looking his friend in the eyes in hopes that his confidence would win him over. "We're playing from six-thirty to eight-thirty. We can stay the rest of the night to party."

"Wait, did you say Sunday? We're staying out all night... On a school night?" he asked melodramatically, gesturing broadly with his hands.

"You got a problem with that?" He looked as unamused as he felt.

"Uh, yeah!" The boy rolled his eyes. "My mom's gonna kill me! Hell, my mom's gonna kill you!"

"Not if she doesn't find out," Lukas pointed out as always. "So long as we don't do anything stupid and you stay away from the alcohol, we should be fine. We'll probably be able to get back by midnight or one anyway."

Matthias bit his lip in thought as he tried to work out the logistics in his head. "Okay, I guess that works. It's still a little weird, lying to my mom."

Lukas pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well, your mom needs to chill."

"My mom hasn't chilled since I was in grade school," the nerd bantered with a laugh.

"What is it with her, anyway? I mean, most parents are overprotective, but she seems insane."

"There..." Matthias' face fell, making him look like a sad puppy. "There's a reason for that."

Lukas was a bit concerned. He hadn't seen him so somber before. "Oh?" he prompted.

A melancholy smile played on his features. "You're not the only one whose father's left. He took off just a few months ago. That's why we moved here. She's worried about me being away from her for too long because..." He trailed off, averting his gaze to the floor.

"Because what?" Lukas asked. He figured his curiosity wouldn't be regarded as rude after he'd given Matthias all this personal information.

Matthias shook his head. "It's silly."

Lukas leaned over the table (luckily, they had both cleaned their plates by then), and playfully flicked his ear. "You're silly. Come on, you don't need to be embarrassed."

Finally, he replied, "I may have run away once or twice..."

Lukas was unimpressed. "Every kid tries to run away."

"At fourteen?" he questioned. "For two days?"

"I always knew you were an imbecile," he remarked, face-palming in disdain.

"See?" Matthias countered, making large gestures with his arms. "What did I say? You totally just judged me."

"That's nothing new. I judge you every day."

"I'm just wondering..." Matthias mused, face somehow completely serious. "Is it wrong that I kinda wanna run away again?"

"No," Lukas scoffed. "I would too, if I were you."

He bit his lip. "I guess."

Then, seeing as neither had anything to say, they sat in contented silence for a minute or two, staring off into the distance. It was actually rather relaxing.

Sadly, that could only last so long, and to Lukas it felt like only a moment had passed before Mat stood up from his seat with a low sigh, distractedly combing a hand through his hair. "Well, this was nice," he said with a smile. "I guess both of us learned something new, huh?"

"You have to go, don't you?" Lukas asked, a bit depressed at the notion.

The other boy winced. "Sorry, Luke."

But Lukas got over it quickly, waving his hand dismissively. "No, it's fine. I get it. I'll... I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Yup!" he confirmed as he made his way toward the door. "See you tomorrow, Lukas!"

He put on his coat, feeling familiar enough with the home to show himself out.

But as he opened the door, he stopped in his tracks, turning around to face Lukas once more. "Oh yeah, and Lukas?"

"Yes?" he asked after a moment. He hadn't been expecting Matthias to stay back, and was thrown off a little.

"We should do this again sometime. You're kind of fun to talk to, now that I've gotten to know you."

Lukas looked at the ground, forcing his smiling face back to its neutral position. "Alright. Does next week work?"

The Dane flashed back a cocky grin. "Next week sounds great! See ya!"

"Bye, Mat."

Then Lukas waved to him as he left, gently shutting the door behind him.

* * *

Emil came back fifteen minutes later, strutting into the kitchen and sitting in one of the chairs at the table there.

Lukas was in the process of doing the day's dishes, but figured that could wait until later, hurrying to wash the suds off his arms before sitting next to his brother.

"So," Emil began.

"So?" Lukas asked, waiting for Emil to ask the question he knew was in the boy's head.

He let out an exasperated sigh. "So," he repeated pointedly. "How'd it go?"

"It went well," was his vague reply. "We had a nice conversation."

"But did you, y'know..." Emil trailed off, but the 'get together' at the end was implied.

Lukas deadpanned. "We aren't together."

"Aw c'mon!" He rolled his eyes. "It isn't that hard, is it?"

"Well, I at least got him to agree to come again next week."

But Emil still shook his head. "Not good enough, Lukas."

Lukas decided he'd had enough of that, and stood up, walking briskly out of the room.

"Next week, Luke!" Emil called after him

"Next week," Lukas mumbled in response.

* * *

_"How stupid is it? I can't talk about it_  
_I gotta sing about it and make a record of my heart_  
_How stupid is it? Won't you gimme a minute_

_Just come up to me_  
_And say hello to my heart_  
_How stupid is it? For all I know you want me too_  
_And maybe you just don't know what to do_  
_Or maybe you're scared to say:_

_I'm falling for you__"_

~"El Scorcho", _Pinkerton_, Weezer


	10. Laced With Nitroglycerin

** Alcohol Intoxication: a physiological state that may also include psychological alterations of consciousness induced by the ingestion of ethanol or alcohol.**

* * *

Peter was the self-proclaimed coolest boy in the world. Obviously, he had to be. Who else was awesome enough to spy on a punk band for the sake of another punk band?

Face it, Peter was rad.

So thought he as he sat in his room (which was right next to Arthur's). He had his ear to the back of a glass he had placed on the wall bordering their rooms. He'd learned this trick from his brother Allistor when he was seven; with his ear to the glass, he could hear every word those in the next room said.

_"Alright, listen up!"_ Arthur shouted, which had absolutely no effect on any prattle or side conversation. Alfred and Ivan seemed to be in a heated argument, and Francis and Yao were talking amongst themselves.

Peter heard his brother growl. _"I mean it! God, it's impossible to get you all to shut up, I swear."_

The conversation finally began to recede, and Peter took this moment to turn his walkie-talkie on. "Okay, Ber, they're starting the meeting. Stand by: I'll see what they're planning."

Berwald received the message, and Peter carried on with his spying.

_"So, what did you want to meet about?"_ Alfred asked

_"Yeah,"_ Ivan added. _"You made it sound rather urgent on the phone."_

Francis sniffed (well, Peter didn't know that for a fact, but he could easily imagine Francis sniffing right then)._ "That is exactly what I want to know. Seriously, I have better things to do than talk with you, loser."_

_"Shut up, Francis!"_ Arthur yelled in reply. _"Now if you would all just listen, then I would have already said the purpose of this meeting."_

Silence.

_"Thank you. Now, I'm sure you all know about the Beilschmidts' party on Sunday, right?"_

_"Well, duh!"_ That was Alfred.

_"Yes."_ Peter couldn't tell if Yao or Ivan said that.

_"Yeah."_ Ivan, which meant the last one was Yao.

_"Of course we have!"_ Francis scoffed, seemingly shocked at the suggestion that he might not have heard of this event. _"It's only the biggest event of the year!"_

_"Yes, I'm quite aware of that, frog. That's why this meeting is imperative."_ Peter could hear the dastardly smirk in his brother's words — he was definitely scheming.

_"But why?"_ Peter imagined Yao rolling his eyes in exasperation.

Francis clearly felt the same way. _"Quit beating around the bush, eyebrows. What is it?"_

_"Fine, fine!"_ the Brit shot back._ "Inside sources tell me that the Nordic Five are playing there, which will give them a massive advantage over us for the concert. We need to strategize."_

There was a brief pause, so Peter told Berwald, "They're talking about the party on Sunday. I think they want to sabotage you somehow."

Alfred was the first to speak up. _"Uh, I don't think it's right to just steal the show from them. Not very heroic."_

_"It's not supposed to be heroic, dear!"_ Arthur admonished. _"We're supposed to win!"_

_"I thought the concert was just for fun!"_ Alfred had always been on the naïve side. Peter was twelve, and even he could tell that the concert was more than a friendly competition.

_"But wouldn't it be more fun if we were to win?"_ Arthur argued._ "And it's plenty heroic. You're doing it for me, remember?"_

"Yuck!" Peter sneered at the walkie-talkie.

"What?" Berwald responded, concerned.

Peter let out a disdainful, disgusted groan. "Art's being all mushy-gushy with Alfred again."

Berwald let out an amused hum that might have been a laugh. "J'st keep list'ning."

"Fine, fine," the boy moaned, but decided against putting up any further argument. This was for the sake of the Nordic Five, Arthur's demise, and (most importantly) Peter's coolness, so he would have to wade through the romance.

Ivan was the next one to speak after Peter had commenced listening once more. _"Alfred does have a point though. Won't people notice if we steal the concert from them?"_

_"Well, what do you suggest then, Ivan?"_ Arthur asked.

There was a dramatic pause, and Peter just knew Ivan was wearing that creepy little smirk that meant he had a plan. _"I suggest we destroy them from the inside out."_

"Ivan's being a creeper again," Peter reported diligently. "I think he's got a plan."

"Shit- uh..." Berwald cursed before realizing to whom he was speaking. "I mean, darn."

Peter snorted. "Nice try, Ber. But really, Arthur curses like a sailor anyway, so why should it matter?" He put the walkie-talkie down.

_"Care to elaborate?"_ Arthur seemed incredulous.

_"I'd love to. I think that if we found a way to make them break up before the concert, we wouldn't have to worry about any competition, would we?"_

There was a pause, then Yao said, _"You're right."_

_"How do you intend to do that?"_ Arthur demanded.

_"The Dane is very new, is he not? His emotional ties are probably looser— especially with Lukas, since he's so antisocial. If we found a way to pit them against each other, the Dane would quit, would he not?"_

Arthur scoffed. _"Yeah, right. Have you seen them?"_

_"They make eyes at each other in my math class,"_ Yao added helpfully. _"It's so disgusting!"_

Francis had a different take._ "Ah, young love. I remember-"_

_"Shut it, snail-eater,"_ Arthur interrupted before his bandmate could get any further.

The Frenchman was offended. _"My snails aren't nearly so terrible as those bricks you make!"_

Peter snickered. Arthur probably had smoke coming out of his ears._ "They're called scones, and I told you to shut it! I don't know if you've noticed, Ivan, but they're actually rather infatuated with each other."_

_"Yeah, we're more likely to get them in bed together than we are to pull them apart."_ Yao's wise words made Peter gag. The boy decided against sharing that bit of information with Berwald. Ugh, teenagers were so disgusting!

That was when Alfred spoke up. _"How 'bout both?"_

_"What was that, love?"_ Arthur asked, seemingly confused.

_"Okay, listen here,"_ his boyfriend said excitedly. _"I've got a super-totally-freaking-awesome idea!"_

"Alright, Alfred. Go ahead."

"Okay, so you know how Luke's kinda closed off, right?"

"Peter."

The voice was totally unexpected, and Peter jumped, dropping the glass.

Leon stood there.

Now, the Kirkland family's situation was a little unusual. Peter's father had remarried three years ago, causing their family of six to turn into a family of nine. Luckily, three of Peter's older brothers were already in college. Otherwise, the house would have been unbearably chaotic — four kids at home were enough.

The Wangs were nice enough, but Peter didn't really trust them. Yao was loud, overbearing, and a little intimidating in Peter's opinion. On the other hand, Leon was quiet, mysterious, and always seemed to be up to something.

"Like, what are you doing?" Leon raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

Peter flashed the boy his most convincing smile. "Oh, nothing, Leon! What would make you think otherwise?"

"Well, you've had your ear to the wall for, like, fifteen minutes now."

He'd been spying him spying on Arthur for fifteen minutes?

Wow, that was actually pretty redundant. A spy spying on a spy. Spy-ception.

"Uhh…" Peter was at a loss. It's a… It's a very interesting glass! See, look, it's..." He let out an awkward laugh. "It's magic, see? If you put your ear to it, you can hear all the way on the other side of town! I'm using it to talk to Berwald!"

Leon didn't buy it. "Then why are you holding a walkie-talkie?"

"Ummmm…" Peter blushed.

"Who are you talking to? Berwald?"

"No, no!" Peter protested, but it was a lost cause. "… Alright, fine. I'm spying on the Allies for Tino and Berwald."

"Oh, okay," Leon replied.

A pause.

"That's... That's it?" Peter asked. Surely Leon wanted something... Right?

"Like, why should I care?"

Peter shrugged. "I don't know. I guess… I guess I'll see you later then."

"Yup." And then he left, allowing Peter to continue his infinitely important spy work.

_"...never want to see each other again,"_ was all Peter caught of Alfred's 'super-totally-freaking-awesome' plan.

Oh no.

"Berwald, sorry, I think I just missed the most important part. I'll see if I can get the rest. Sorry!"

"'T's fine," the other reassured. "Just listen t' th'rest."

_"Al,"_ Arthur proclaimed, _"you're a genius!"_

Great, even the difficult-to-please Arthur thought this plan was brilliant. The Nordic Five could really be in trouble, and Peter had missed it.

Yao, however, felt otherwise. _"But how do we do that if he's both so embarrassed by it?"_

"Do what?" Peter mused in a stage-whisper. "What are he embarrassed by? Who's _he?_"

_"Arthur, any ideas?"_ Ivan asked.

_"We need to get them drunk. Does anyone know how to make alcoholic punch that doesn't taste of alcohol?"_

_"Leave that to Yao and I,"_ Francis replied, swagger and confidence oozing from his voice. _"We can do that without a problem. I'm in charge of the food anyway."_

So they were going to drug them, huh? That was interesting. Luckily, Peter wasn't about to let them get away with it.

He could imagine Arthur giving an approving nod, the stern look of a leader painted on his face. _"Okay, I'll be sure to rile Luke up beforehand. Ivan, you can make sure no one tells the band about this, right?"_

_"Sounds fun,"_ the boy replied shadily. Peter feared for the health of anyone who dared stand in Ivan's way.

_"Oh!"_ Arthur seemed to remember something. _"And Alfred: make sure Matthias and Luke get some punch, alright?"_

_"Got it,"_ his boyfriend said, likely with his trademark shit-eating grin.

_"That should work. Each of you remember your roles, right?"_

There was silence. Everyone was probably nodding.

Satisfied, Arthur concluded, _"Then our meeting is adjourned for now. I'll see you all tonight; thank you for coming."_

Peter took this moment to give Berwald a final report. "Ber, the meeting just ended. They're going to put alcohol in the punch and try to get Lukas and Matthias drunk! Make sure you tell them, okay?"

"Got it," Berwald responded. "Th'nks, Peter."

"No prob. See you later; good luck at the show!"

And with that, the conversation ended.

* * *

Berwald didn't often speak with his bandmates.

And now he knew why. He had been trying to tell Matthias and Lukas about the punch all night. Unfortunately, every time he had gotten the chance, he had been interrupted.

Such as now, after the concert. "Lukas-" he started.

"Hey, Berwald," Luke greeted, particularly affable tonight. "You did pretty good tonight. But you don't want to stick around with me, do you? Go spend some time with Tino."

Well, yeah, he did want to spend time with Tino. But the well-being of the band was more important than a few more minutes to dance and talk with Tino. So, he carried on with his cause. "B't Lukas-"

Lukas waved his jabs dismissively. "Really, it's okay. I understand that I'm boring. I'm fine here with Mat. You go ahead — I hear they've got some great beer."

"B't Luke-" he tried.

Unfortunately, his boyfriend appeared at that moment (God, Berwald never thought he'd attribute the word 'unfortunately' to Tino.) Lukas got his attention. "Tino, there you are. Berwald was looking for you."

Well, that was a stretch. "Wait-"

Lukas rolled his eyes. "For the last time, Ber, it's fine. Enjoy yourselves."

Tino let out a light laugh that made Berwald swoon. "C'mon, Berwald. Why don't we go dance?" He gave Berwald a light peck on the lips.

Berwald blushed. Okay, he was sold. Lukas and Matthias would just have to deal with it themselves.

* * *

"So…" Matthias scratched the back of his neck, racking his brain for conversation-starters. Finally, he said, "A party."

Lukas snorted. "Yes. Do you have anything of substance to say on the matter?"

"Lots of alcohol," he observed.

"Indeed there is." He gave the other a pointed glare. "Stay away from it. You don't want to get caught by your mom, do you?"

"No, but-"

"Excuse me," interrupted someone from behind.

The two spun around to see...

"Who are you?" Matthias asked, confused. Sure, it was a little rude, but Matthias had always been a bit blunt.

Lukas clenched his fists and deadpanned. "Trouble."

"Oh, is that what you're calling me now?" Trouble turned to Matthias. "Pleased to meet you. My name's Arthur." He stuck out his hand, which Matthias reluctantly shook.

"What do you want?" Lukas asked.

"Can I speak with you for a moment?""

"I don't know," the punk replied coolly. "Can you?"

"Don't sass me!" Arthur shot back. "Matthias, do you mind if I steal Lukas?"

Matthias shrugged. "I dunno. Lukas can do whatever he wants."

"Like you could control me if you wanted to," Lukas replied. "I'll go, but make it quick. I despise being in your presence."

"Fine, fine. Come with me." Arthur began to walk away, Lukas hot on his heels.

They ended up in a vacant restroom, which was the most private — if not the most glamorous — location in the house. Lukas gave Arthur a bored gaze. "So what do you want?"

Arthur was unaffected by his unenthusiastic presence. Rather, he said, "You look rather handsome tonight."

Lukas raised an eyebrow.

"Don't stare at me like that," his ex admonished. "Your makeup is flawless —makes your eyes pop. And the way that tank top shows off your arms..."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Lukas was pretty hot in his own opinion, but why did Arthur care?

"Yes, absolutely flawless..." He paused, probably for dramatic effect. "And absolutely fake."

"Are you here to converse with me or terrorize me?" Lukas asked, entirely at a loss. Clearly, Arthur was trying to tick him off... But why?

"Now don't get me wrong, Lukas," he backtracked, though he still wore a cruel grin. "Your disguise is perfect-"

"It's not a disguise." Lukas furrowed his eyebrows. If Arthur was accusing him of bring a poser, the boy was quite prepared to behead him. "I love dressing like this."

Arthur laughed. "Oh, but I think we both know that that's not what I'm talking about at all."

"Then what are you talking about? Stop wasting my time; I ran out of patience for you more than a year ago."

"What am I talking about? Ha! Your face, of course." Well, Lukas was totally lost. "It's so... blank. Sure, you might show the occasional mischievous smirk or annoyed glare, but it's all an act — it's just for show. You might as well be wearing a mask. Wouldn't be a shame if that pretty little façade of yours cracked?"

The words echoed in Lukas' skull. He inwardly cursed Arthur for knowing just how to push his buttons. On the surface, however, he still looked serene and unfazed. "What are you planning?" he demanded flatly.

His rival changed the subject completely. "Do you remember that one night we drove out to the middle of nowhere? And we spent the night just talking?"

"Yes," Lukas responded hesitantly, "but this is no time for reminiscing."

Arthur held up a hand. "I know, I know. Do remember what I said to you that night?"

"You said a lot of things that night. Why don't you refresh my memory?"

"I said..." He walked up closer to him, and whispered in his ear, "That even though we made splendid lovers, we would be perfect enemies."

Lukas suppressed a shiver. "And I said you'd been watching too much Sherlock."

"That's beside the point." He smiled. "Doesn't it seem funny now?"

"Well, you certainly weren't wrong," Lukas said with a shrug.

"I'm never wrong; I thought you knew that. I wish you luck with your band." He began to walk toward the door. "You're going to need it."

"Wait, is that the only reason you're talking to me? What are you doing?"

He opened the bathroom door. "You'll see soon enough, dear. Now, I don't know about you, but I could use some punch." The door shut behind him, leaving Lukas alone to contemplate what the hell had just happened.

* * *

"Man, Luke, this punch is awesome! You should try some!" Matthias greeted his friend, offering him a styrofoam cup.

"Alright." Lukas took the cup from Mat, bringing it to his lips and taking a long, languid sip. "Huh, you're right," he noticed. "This is really good."

"Yeah, Alfred offered me some. I hear some members of the cooking club mixed it."

"Oh, really?" he asked after draining the rest of the cup. Something sounded amiss... But the drink was really good, so he could overlook that. "Here, can you get me another cup?"

Matthias furrowed his brow. "Wow, you already finished? You must really like this stuff."

"It's sweet," was Lukas' simple explanation. "I've always liked sweet things. Haha, y'know, I've never said that to anyone. Isn't that funny?"

"Uh, I guess?" Matthias was skeptical of Lukas' sudden shift in behavior. Nonetheless, he went to go fetch some more punch.

Little-known fact: Lukas got tipsy really easily. So, even though Matthias could hardly tell the difference, one glass of the spiked drink was enough to make Lukas giggly.

Which probably wasn't good.

Matthias returned, handing off the cup to Luke. He'd also taken the opportunity to get himself another glass because why not?

"Yeah, this is great," Luke said after he'd finished. "Heh, wanna go dance?"

"You dance?" Matthias asked, confused.

"No," he answered, "but I could try."

The other shrugged. "Okay then."

Neither of them were particularly good dancers, and the alcohol in their bloodstream certainly didn't help things. They awkwardly waltzed about the room, their dance clashing entirely with the fast-paced rock music that was playing.

It took less than a minute before Lukas stepped on Matthias' feet, causing the Dane to wince in pain.

"Luke, you totally suck at this," he commented, though not mean-spiritedly.

"You're bad too," Lukas replied with a coy smile. Suddenly, his knees buckled, and Matthias had to hold him up until he regained his footing.

"Not as bad as you," he laughed. "Here, sit down. You look dizzy." He walked with him to a chair.

"This is a lotta fun," Lukas said, suddenly very serious. "I'm glad you're here."

Mat blushed, averting his gaze towards the ground.. "Well, I wasn't just going to miss a concert."

This didn't satisfy Luke's hazy mind. "No, not like that. I'm glad you're in the band. I'm glad I met you."

"What?" Matthias was taken aback. "I thought ya hated me."

"Yer fucking obnoxious..." Lukas observed. "But ya get me... And yer hot..."

The other boy might have been embarrassed, but at that moment, Emil appeared. "Mat? Why's Lukas drunk?"

"Drunk? We didn't drink anything," Mat replied confusedly. "Honest. We only had some punch."

Emil's eyes widened. "Punch?"

"Yeah."

"Mat, that punch was spiked. Ber was supposed to tell you..."

"It was what? But I couldn't even tell."

"Luke's a lightweight," Emil explained, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Here, why don't I take you two home?"

"I can drive, y'know," Matthias countered.

"Not with alcohol in your system."

"I've barely had anything." He rolled his eyes.

Emil let out a sigh. "Fine. If you really want to, you can drive yourself home. But not with big br- I mean, Lukas, in the car. I'm driving back to the house."

"Fine." Now that Emil mentioned it, Matthias did feel a little tipsy. Perhaps it was for the best.

"No, little bro," Luke finally cut in. "Ya don't have a license. I'll drive."

"Luke, you can't even stand up."

He let out a small laugh. "Don't need to. People drive sitting down, duh! Thought y'were smarter than that."

"Mat, help?" Emil asked. "Do you think you could at least manage to get him into your car? I need drive you guys back."

"Sure, but why do we need to leave now?" Matthias saw no reason to go at the moment. It was only half past ten.

Emil glared at Matthias, trying to convey how serious he was. "Trust me: if we don't leave, Luke is going to regret it. He gets a bit, er —" he seemed to question his word choice "— racy, I guess, when he's drunk."

Matthias raised an eyebrow. "Racy?"

"Like, uhh..." He blushed as he made a rather rude gesture with his hands.

"Oh." The nerd's eyes widened in realization. "Oh, uh, okay. I'll help." With that, he lifted Lukas and began to make his way to the car.

"What're ya doin'?" Lukas demanded, kicking and attempting to wriggle his way from Matthias' grip. "Put me down, ya little shit!"

Matthias smirked. "Nah, Luke. Gotta carry you out."

"But..." Lukas' eloquence had dissipated to the point where he could no longer come up with a decent argument. "Well, guess it's kinda comfy. Alright, but don' tell anyone ya held me bridal-style."

"Deal," Matthias agreed as he carried Lukas out to the car.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Matthias pulled the covers over Lukas' body. He turned around and started to leave, before Luke grabbed him by the sleeve.

"What is it?" he asked, spinning around to face the other boy again.

Lukas didn't let go of him — rather, he pulled Matthias in closer, sitting up and pressing a thoughtless kiss against his cheek. "Stay the night with me."

Matthias was blushing up to his ears. His judgement was weakened, but this still didn't sound like a good idea. "Nah, Luke. I gotta go home." Or rather, he had to crash on the couch downstairs. Either way, he did not want to be in here.

Or did he?

Despite his words, Matthias sat on the bed next to Luke.

"But it's late," the other replied, flirtatiously tucking a lock of the Dane's hair behind his ear. He kissed his cheek, the whispered in his ear: "'ll make it worth your while."

Now, Mat's observational skills had never been excellent, and the alcohol certainly didn't help things, but even he could tell what Luke's intentions were. He had the forethought to know he was going to regret this in the morning if he didn't leave. "I..." he spluttered, mouth abandoning his thoughts. "I don't think this is a good idea..."

Lukas, either not realizing or not caring about Matthias' discomfort, pulled on his tie, drawing the boy's face closer until their noses nearly touched. He pecked him on the lips, then gave a low, contented hum. "Just stay," he demanded once more, voice cracking in a convincing act of neediness. "Need yah."

"But you're drunk," Matthias attempted to rationalize, lacking the brain power to come up with a more compelling argument.

The other smirked. "You're drunker."

"No, I'm not." He looked Lukas in the eyes, taking in his dazed, lustful visage. The punk had said he hated drinking… Was this why? "Luke, are you okay?"

"'f course," he said with a laugh, uncharacteristic but beautifully melodic nonetheless. "You're here, dork. Always feel better when you're here. Please stay."

And as Matthias looked into Lukas' pleading eyes, he knew there was only one thing to be said:

"Ah, fuck it. Why not?"

Matthias had no idea what happened after that, but he wagered that it was pretty hot.

* * *

_"Oh and the smokes in that cigarette box on the table,_  
_they just so happen to be laced with nitroglycerin."_

~"There's a Reason These Tables Are Numbered, Honey, You Just Haven't Figured It Out Yet", _A Fever You Can't Sweat Out_, Panic! At the Disco


	11. Fuck You

**Superiority Complex: a psychological defense mechanism in which a person's feelings of superiority counter or conceal his or her feelings of inferiority.**

_Life is pain,_ was Lukas' eloquent first thought as he opened his eyes the next morning.

He immediately shut them again. The room was far too bright, and he feared for the health of his corneas. But the burning in his eyes was eclipsed by his massive headache, which was so painful he could barely even think straight. God, he really needed an aspirin.

His eyes, his head... And, for some reason, his ass...

Well, at least it was warm. He felt like there was some sort of furnace latched onto his back, which was sort of strange, but- wait, was that a person?

Now that he thought of it, that did feel a lot like skin... Oh, and that felt like an arm draped over his naked chest...

He was, of course, naked. And there was a person cuddling into him, who also seemed to be naked. Oh yeah, and his butt kind of hurt as well. That was also important to note.

Great. So, why didn't he remember anything that had lead up to this?

Suddenly, the person moved, not quite waking up, but churning nonetheless. He pulled Lukas in just a bit closer, and let out a contented sigh. "Lukas..." he mumbled dazedly into Lukas' hair.

Shit, that was Matthias' voice!

Not good... Not good...

Noticing that he was losing focus, and realizing he wouldn't be able to think clearly in this bed with a pounding headache, Lukas carefully stood up. That was a mistake.

"Huh?" the Dane gasped, and finally he sat up.

Lukas figured it was too late to duck for cover, so he bit his lip and reluctantly turned to face his friend.

Was he even his friend anymore? Were they lovers? Perhaps bandmates?... Enemies?

Matthias stretched, giving a large yawn that reeked of morning breath. Lukas might have mocked the boy for under different circumstances. Then Matthias finally noticed the other boy in the room.

He practically choked on his spit. "What the fuck?"

* * *

"Emil," Tino asked. "Where are Mat and Lukas?" He and Emil were both sitting in the cafeteria, peacefully eating their lunches.

At this point, Luke and Matthias sat with them pretty regularly. It was a change from what Emil and Tino were used to, but it was a welcome change for the most part. Occasionally, Lukas would tease Emil and the younger would walk out, but the majority of the time, it just made for more interesting conversation. Whether Lukas liked it or not, Matthias had changed him for the better.

Emil flashed a coy smirk. "My house. They got pretty wasted last night — well, Lukas did, at least. I decided to let them sleep in."

Tino's eyes widened in surprise. "Lukas got drunk? With Mat?"

"Yeah."

"Uhh..." He bit his lip. "Did anything happen?"

"Like what?" The other queried, feigning innocence.

Tino scratched the back of his head. "Like... Y'know, the..." Feeling too uncomfortable to just say 'sex', he made a hand gesture of debatable morality.

"Yeah, they fucked." He casually popped a piece of licorice into his mouth. "I could hear them all the way in my room."

"Oh, wow..." Tino seemed in awe, eyes wide.

Emil laughed. "I know, isn't it great? It's like some sort of saromantic comedy!"

Tino started to look a bit queasy. "Are you sure that's a good thing? I thought you were trying to set them up."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if you remember the last time Luke had a one-night stand with someone..."

The other boy's eyes widened considerably. "Oh. Oh God." He did not want to be reminded of that disaster.

"What if that happened again? The band would be destroyed, and so would Lukas' love life."

"And it would all be my fault," he replied, voice barely above a breathy whisper.

"Uhh... How?"

"I knew the punch was spiked. Berwald told me."

"He knew?" Suddenly, he felt guilty for pulling him away from Luke and Mat the night prior... And that did explain why Ivan had kept trying to get their attention — it was a distraction all along. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry we didn't-!"

"It's cool," Emil interrupted, not wanting the other to feel guilty. "I don't think that's what's going to happen. I'm sure you know that Mat's sort of special to Lukas."

Tino didn't look so certain, but he shrugged nonetheless. "I guess so."

* * *

"Matthias, calm down," Lukas tried to console, though it did not seem to have much of an effect on the Dane. "And put on some fucking clothes."

The two both found their clothing strewn about the room. They were relatively unscathed, save for Lukas' shirt, which was torn to shreds. They decided not to discuss how that had occurred as they dressed. Luckily, they were in Lukas' room, so the boy just put on another shirt from his closet. Lukas also used that moment to take a painkiller for his head.

Finally, after that ordeal, Matthias spoke up, initial shock starting to wear off. "Did- did we just...?"

Lukas examined his nails, trying to look distracted and uninterested. "Yes, we did. Your point?"

"Well, isn't that kind of a big deal?" he shot back, face full of hurt and fear.

"We were both drunk," Lukas assured, partially to himself. "It's not like it means anything." Really, Lukas was panicking on the inside. Not only had he slept past noon (missing both his marijuana sales for the day and his classes), but this ratcheted up unfortunate memories of the last time this had happened. Of course,

Matthias didn't look so sure — not least because he hadn't been nearly as drunk as Lukas the night prior. "Well yeah, but-"

"But what? It's not like it's never happened to you before, right?" Yes, because every high school student had random, drunken one-night stands.

"Uhh... No?" He raised an eyebrow. "That's not really normal, Lukas."

Well, seeing as he couldn't use sympathy to quell his growing feelings of panic, he changed tactics. "Do you have any right to judge me at this point? You're here too, and by the looks of it, you started it."

"Me? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Stop playing dumb," he demanded with a glare. Lukas was wrong, and they both knew it, but that didn't keep him from continuing to speak. "I don't get drunk on purpose; you obviously spiked the punch or something."

Mat's eyes instantly changed from dazed and confused to cold and confrontational. "I didn't spike the punch. Why the fuck would I do that to you? You're the one who started it!"

Lukas scoffed. "I was clearly drunk, and you obviously weren't protesting. I don't think my ass has hurt this much since I broke up with Arthur."

"Oh." Matthias' eyes widened. He was a bit too much of a dork to have any sort of exposure to such things as gay sex, and Lukas' remark caught him off guard. "Oh my god, that's disgusting." Then realization crept onto his features, and he sat down on the bed, hiding his face behind his hands. "Oh god, what the fuck did I do?"

It wasn't like he was homophobic or anything (that would be rather hypocritical), he just hadn't had much exposure to sex — well, until last night, that is.

"Apparently me," Lukas fired back. He paused for a moment as Matthias' words finally sunk in: that's disgusting... "Am I really that disgusting to you?"

"What? No! I was talking about the... the... y'know, that! Stop screwing with my words." He abruptly stood up again in a sudden show of dominance, not wanting to be looked down at. He was only about a centimeter taller than Lukas (though the hair did add some extra height), but every small advantage counted in what had just turned into one hell of a pissing contest.

Lukas narrowed his eyes. "I'll stop screwing with your words when you stop trying to get in my pants, asshole."

"I wasn't trying to get in your pants!" His gaze softened momentarily. "What makes you think I would do that to you? Don't you trust me?"

"I don't trust anyone. No point in it; people just screw me over."

The coldness returned to Matthias' eyes full force. Lukas failed to recall a time when he'd had looked more enraged.

Matthias inhaled sharply, and, holding the other boy's stare, said, "That's a sad existence, Lukas."

Lukas felt his nails digging into his hands. "Don't fucking tell me how to live!"

"You know what?" Matthias shot back. "Fuck you. I tried to be nice, and I tried to find something good in you, but I guess I was wrong all along... You're just a self-centered, antisocial asshole, and... And I just can't do it anymore. Tell the others I'm sorry; I quit!"

Lukas lost all sense of reason, and punched him square in the jaw, full-force, without any thought or hesitation.

Matthias began to draw his arm back to retaliate, before thinking better of it. His arm sunk back down to his side, and he let out an exasperated sigh. "Look, I don't want to hurt you. Just leave me alone."

Then Lukas gave a dark, near-hysterical laugh, and replied, "Stop pretending you're such a good person." He grabbed the Dane by the jaw, and pulled him in until their noses touched. "You want to punch me?" he asked, breath still laced with lingering alcohol and tobacco. "Go ahead and do it. I'm not stopping you."

"Fine then!" Matthias shouted as he wriggled out of the other's hold, landing a punch in Lukas' stomach.

The boy gasped for air, the wind temporarily knocked out of him. But before he could so much as regain his breath, Matthias had pinned him against the wall, holding both wrists in one hand over Lukas' head.

"I'm leaving," he said into Lukas' ear, voice full of venom, "and you aren't gonna stop me."

Matthias made sure to slam the door behind him as he stalked out of the room, probably never to be seen again.

* * *

Though Emil thought the current situation held no negative repercussions, Tino still wanted to be prepared for the worst (which was probably a good thing). So, after school that day, he managed to catch his boyfriend in the hall.

"Ber," he greeted with a quick peck on the lips.

"Mm?" he replied, as if to ask what he wanted. Clearly, Tino looked rather troubled.

He met Berwald's gaze. "I think our band might be in trouble."

Berwald raised an eyebrow.

"You know how Lukas is when he drinks?" Tino asked.

Oh, this wasn't going to end well.

Berwald nodded, trying to look as innocent as possible.

"Well," his boyfriend said pointedly, eyes narrowing. "According to Emil, someone spiked the punch."

Oh, he was totally on to him.

"Really?" he tried in a final attempt at feigning innocence.

Tino wasn't having any of it. "He also said he'd heard it from you."

Wait, what?

"Didn't tell 'm." Actually, he was telling the truth. As far as he knew, Emil had never even heard the plan,

"Berwald, if you're pulling my leg, I swear-!"

"'M not," he promised. "I tried t'tell Luke, b't he wouldn't list'n. Never told Emil."

"Then how did he know?"

Berwald shrugged — the hell if he knew.

"You're still in trouble!" Tino scolded, though the fire behind his tone was gone. "It could have gone really badly!"

In fact, it could still have been going really badly. Even then, no one knew what exactly had happened between Mat and Luke. Technically, they could have killed each other while everyone else was at school.

In short, Berwald had screwed up massively. "Sorry."

"Yeah, I know," Tino replied, giving him a quick peck on the lips. "Let's just hope it works out, okay?"

Berwald sighed. "'Kay."

* * *

Lukas collapsed to his knees, overwhelmed by the series of events. It had all happened so fast — he couldn't believe the idiot was gone. Tears streamed down his face, but he made no attempt to cover them up as he usually did.

So he really was incapable of keeping a friend. He was really that deplorable, even to someone as sweet as Matthias.

He heaved and sobbed unashamedly. His crying was not the dainty kind seen in the movies. Rather, it was ugly, loud, and heart-wrenching. Any mere acquaintance of Lukas' would have been terrified by such an extreme reaction.

He had shocking transparency about him– a kind no one but maybe Emil had seen before.

It frightened him. He was so open, so clear, so vulnerable. Anyone who wanted to could tear his heart to bits — to a greater extent than it already had been. Panic rose in his chest, a unbearably tight and constricting pain.

He let out another sob, struggling to breathe another sharp, shaky breath.

A phrase he'd heard the night prior popped into his head:

Wouldn't it be a shame if that pretty little façade of yours cracked?

Lukas was tempted to laugh amidst his tears. Wouldn't Arthur be pleased to know that Lukas had been humiliated, just as his ex had planned?

In retrospect, Lukas wouldn't have been surprised to find that Arthur had paid Matthias to put up an act this whole time...

Actually, no.

No.

That was a lie, he realized, biting his lip. Even after his heart was shattered, he still couldn't believe that Matthias would do that. He still trusted the idiot, and (though he hated to admit it) he still loved him.

What had he just done?

* * *

"Lukas?" Emil cooed as he opened the door to his brother's room. "Are you and Mat still in there? Because I heard some veh-ry in-ter-esting—" he cut off, finally noticing Lukas, sitting on the floor and crying pitifully. "Shit! What happened? It isn't Mat, is it?"

Lukas didn't even look up. "I don't want to talk about it."

Eyes wide, Emil interjected, "So it is Matthias! What'd he do? Do I need to beat him up for you?" He didn't have anything against Matthias, but if it consoled his brother, he was more than willing to give the Dane a good smack upside the head.

"I..." He sighed. "I don't know. It was my fault."

"I'm sure it wasn't completely your fault," he replied with an eye roll. "C'mon, Lukas, what happened?"

The other didn't speak, opting to apprehensively bite his lip instead.

"Luke?" This was not normal. Emil had never seen him so distraught in his life. "Big... Big brother?"

"Oh, now you'll say it." Lukas had been trying to get Emil to use that title on him since the youngest was nine.

"That's 'cos I'm worried about you. What happened with Mat?"

"I..." He winced. "I slapped him in the face."

"What?" That wasn't what Emil had been expecting at all.

"And then he punched me in the stomach," Luke added.

Now, that was just downright out of character. "Mat? Are you sure?"

Lukas shrugged. "I told him to."

"Why would you do that?" Emil asked incredulously.

"Tired of doing everything wrong."

Well, didn't that remark make Emil feel like he'd been stabbed in the chest...

"Lukas, do you really feel that way?" He sat down next to his brother, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Shut up."

"No!" he insisted. "You can't do this to yourself. What did Matthias do after that?"

Lukas sniffed — clearly, this was a sensitive question. "He quit the band and left."

Emil gasped. "You're joking."

"I told you I do everything wrong," he iterated rubbing his eyes. "I bet I could've stopped it from happening. I should've stayed away from that punch-"

"Don't you dare," Emil cut in. "You had no idea the Allies spiked it. You drank it because no one stopped you, and you got Matthias in bed with you when you were drunk. We all know how you get when you're drunk."

"I know," Lukas said. "I know."

"Then why didn't you tell him that this morning?"

There was a pause. "I don't know."

Emil shook his head. "Why the fuck... Luke, the kid is in love with you; why don't you realize that?"

"Well, I kind of screwed that up, now didn't i?" Lukas broke down again, and Emil realized he had pushed him too far.

He wrapped his arms around the other, letting him sob into his shirt. "I... I'm sorry, Lukas. You've probably had a long day. Why don't we talk about it tomorrow?"

He felt Lukas nod into his chest.

"Do you want some coffee?" he asked carefully, looking for a quick distraction. Coffee was Lukas' favorite drink, and by the looks of it, he hadn't thought to make any that day.

Lukas mumbled, "That'd be nice."

"Alright." He slowly stood up, making his way back toward the door. "Feel better, okay?"

"I'll try," Lukas said as the door shut.

* * *

_"The looks are always so deceiving_

_The truth is always misconstrued_

_To you"_

~"Too Much Too Soon", _American Idiot (B-Side)_, Green Day


	12. Already Too Late

**Love Bite: a bruise or bruise-like mark caused by the kissing or suckling of the skin, usually on the neck or arm.**

Matthias was enraged. He muttered curses under his breath as he stalked home, ready to spend the rest of the rest of the day sulking in his room.

How could Lukas be so idiotic? Mat was already embarrassed; he didn't need the punk blaming it all on him. They both knew full well the way Lukas was in that state, and Matthias realized even then that Lukas had put the blame on him to keep himself from feeling guilty.

He couldn't help but wonder how Lukas was feeling now. Matthias wanted to believe Luke was was hurt, and maybe they could find some way to make this work out, but really, Lukas wouldn't give him the time of day.

And Matthias wasn't ready to experience heartbreak of that scale.

Finally arriving at his house, Mat wrenched open the door, continuing his long, angry march into the house.

"Matthias?!" he heard his mother call frantically.

Oh, right, he was skipping school. He'd forgotten about that part. "Fuck..." His mom was going to kill him, Matthias was sure of it.

Said mother appeared a few seconds later, looking about ready to murder poor Matthias. "Where where you last night?"

Well, Matthias figured anything would probably he less incriminating than the truth. "I- I, uhh-"

"I told you to be home by midnight," she interrupted, calling him out on his bullshit before he could even make an excuse, "and you show up halfway through the school day. You have thirty seconds to explain yourself."

"No comment." Anything his mother came up with would get him in less trouble than the truth, to be honest.

His mother huffed. "Fine then. You're grounded for the rest of the month. No friends, no drums, and no phone."

"Of fucking course," Mat replied, rolling his eyes. Completely and utterly done with this standoff (his second one of the day), he turned to walk up the stairs.

She grabbed his arm, stopping him before he could leave. "Hand it over."

Biting his lip, he took his cell out of his pocket and shoved it over to her. "Take it."

"What's with the attitude?" she asked, putting the device in her pocket. "You're not typically so aggressive."

He sighed. "I'm in a bad mood, alright? I've had a long day is all."

But his mother had stopped listening, seeming to notice something. "What's that?" She rested a hand on his neck.

Matthias flinched. Oh, Lukas had not given him a hickey.

"Is that a hickey?"

Shit. "Uh, maybe?"

"Matthias, did you really break curfew to sleep with a girl?"

"Would you believe me if I said 'no'?" Because, technically speaking, he hadn't — he'd broken curfew to sleep with a boy, which was a completely different ball game (so to speak).

She deadpanned. "Probably not."

Okay, now Matthias was depressed, angry, and embarrassed. It was kind of hard to scowl, pout, and blush at the same time without looking like a five year-old (or maybe Emil), so he decided it was in his best interests to leave before his dignity was entirely stripped from him. "Well, I'm going up to my room. Don't bother calling me down for dinner."

His mom shrugged. "Your loss."

"I'll take my chances." And with that, he disappeared into his room for the night.

Lukas was totally prepared to go about his typical schedule the next day. He'd done fine for himself before Matthias had come into his life, and he would do just fine for himself now that Matthias was gone again.

And so he thought to himself as he walked into his AP calculus class.

Everything was normal. He was fifteen minutes early for class (as per usual), he had a nice hot cup of coffee to get him through the morning, his seat in the corner of the room was open, and there was Matthias sitting right next to him... Wait...

Matthias was sitting right next to his seat.

Not. Okay.

"Please move," he said through gritted teeth, shooting Mat his most deathly glare. Surely, the other boy would be nice enough to-

"Already sitting here," Matthias replied unsympathetically, returning Lukas' gaze with an equally furious stare. "Find another seat."

Lukas was caught off guard by such a cold response, but managed to keep up his façade nonetheless, crossing his arms over his chest. "I've sat here since the first day of school. You move."

"Why's it such a big deal?" He rolled his eyes. "There are twenty-three other desks in the room; take one of those."

"If it's no big deal to you," Lukas bit back, "then why don't you move?"

Mat let out a growl, and stood up. "Fine! Have it your way!" He stalked off to the opposite corner of the room, taking a seat in the front.

Class started a few minutes later, but neither could concentrate. They were far too busy giving each other dirty looks and trying to stealthily piss each other off.

When Matthias got up to sharpen his pencil in the back of the classroom, he was sure to shove Lukas on his way. Lukas returned the favor two minutes later on his way out the door to get a drink.

The worst of it was when the teacher asked Matthias what the answer to one of the problems on the board was. After giving an incorrect response (much to the surprise of the rest of the class), Lukas raised his hand, subtle and sly grin on his face.

His answer was, of course, correct. He looked at Mat, who banged his head on the desk before mouthing, "shut the fuck up" to him in reply.

"Mat, your math teacher called today," Matthias' mother announced as he walked through the door.

He walked into the kitchen, got himself a can of soda, and turned to go to his room without so much as a glance in her direction. "So?"

"He said," she elaborated, eyes boring into Matthias' skull, "that you got a C- on your last test."

Mat shrugged. "And?"

"That's the first grade below an A you've gotten this year."

"Don't wanna talk about it!" He yelled, already in the hallway.

And for the second time that day, Ms. Andersen found herself using physical force to keep her son from running away from her.

"Is it that boy you hang out with?" she queried, genuinely concerned. "Is he a bad influence on you?"

Matthias glared. "Don't. Want. To talk. About it."

"Watch your tone," she said.

"Watch your tone," he repeated in a high-pitched falsetto that was probably meant to be some lame impression of his mother.

That wasn't what she wanted to hear. "Okay, that's it. I'm adding another week to your sentence."

"Go ahead." He wrenched his arm from her grasp, and started walking away again. "It's not like I have a social life, anyway!"

"I'm also getting you a math tutor. Your teacher said he could set an appointment up with another student."

That stopped him in his tracks. There was only one person in his calc class that was doing better than him, and he was not ready to be tormented by Lukas again. "But Mom-"

"Do you want to be grounded until you graduate?" she threatened.

"Not really," he spat.

"Then I recommend you listen to what I'm saying." Her face fell slack, and her voice grew more calm. "Matthias, you've been really closed off lately. I'm worried about you."

"Well, maybe I'm just tired of being here." He winced even as the words left his tongue. That wasn't what he'd wanted to say.

His mother stared at the ground. "Mat, I know I'm a bit much sometimes, but you know I wouldn't be able to handle-"

"I know, I know," he interrupted, backtracking as quickly as he could. "I'm sorry. I've just had a long day, okay?" He wrapped his arms around her, trying his best to assure her he had no intentions of leaving (as deceitful as that was).

After a bit, they both pulled back, and his mother's eyes met his. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He winced. "Not with you."

"Mat!"

"Look, I appreciate the gesture," he replied, "but you're my mom. This is the kinda thing I need to talk out with someone my age — which would be a lot easier if you'd let me talk to my friends, by the way."

There was a neat of silence. "Oh. I guess I understand. It's just hard to-"

"Trust me?" he finished. "Yeah, a lot of people have been saying that lately. Kind of makes me wonder just how inept I really am."

"Honey, that's not what I meant."

The bite in his voice returned. "Oh, really? Then prove it."

"Fine." She pulled something out of her pocket, and gingerly placed it in his hand. "Here's your phone back. You're still grounded for two weeks."

"What? Really" Sure enough, his phone was in his hand. "Oh my god, thanks, Mom!"

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't leave me again," she said dismissively.

"Got it." He started to walk off again.

"Oh, and Mat?" She called when he was halfway up the stairs.

"Yeah?"

"No more girls, okay? Not unless you're in a relationship."

He had to smile to himself. "That won't be a problem, Mom." Girls would never be a problem.

Boys, on the other hand?

Well, Matthias didn't know how that would work out.

That night, Lukas lay on his bed, listening to the soothing sounds of the Sex Pistols and trying not to think of Matthias as he finished his AP Chemistry homework.

There was a knock on the door to his room, barely loud enough to be heard over the music. "Hey, Luke?" Emil's voice was muffled by Johnny Rotten's overwhelming support for anarchy in the UK, but it was loud enough that Lukas couldn't ignore it.

He sighed. "Yes?"

"Are…" He stuttered, sensing the frustration in Lukas' tone. "Are you doing anything right now?"

"Nothing important. Why?"

"I wanted to talk about yesterday. Can I come in?"

Silence.

"Uh, I brought coffee," he added in shameless bribery. "And doughnuts."

That was good enough for Luke. "For god's sake, what are you doing out there? Get your ass in here." He turned down the music enough for conversation, and set aside his textbook.

Emil opened the door, holding a tray of the promised coffee and doughnuts. "How did I know that'd win you over?"

"Shut up," he replied, eagerly grabbing one of the mugs and taking a sip of the bitter drink.

He shrugged. "Just trying to lighten the mood."

"Is that even possible at this point?" Because, really, they were discussing a one-night stand Lukas had had with a mutual friend of theirs.

"I guess not," he admitted, sitting next to him on the bed. "So, what exactly happened – y'know, after you woke up."

"It's stupid."

"No," he countered, resting his hand on Lukas'. "It's not."

"Well, I guess both of us were uncomfortable."

"Like that wasn't totally obvious," Emil scoffed. "What did you guys say to each other? I bet Mat was a dork about it."

"He's a dork about everything," Lukas pointed out. "Even fighting, seriously. Were you listening when he referred to the Mandelbrot Set in an insult during lunch?"

"Yes! That was gold... But really, what happened next? How did you react?"

He bit his lip. "I tried to make it seem like no big deal."

"Even though it was."

"Yeah."

Emil decided to move the story along. "Alright, so he was uncomfortable. What made him quit the band?"

"I may have insinuated that it was his fault," Lukas said with a wince.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "And do you see how that might have fucked things up?"

"Now I do."

"And do you see how pretending to be mad at him now might just make it worse? Instead of, say, telling him what happened? Or maybe apologizing?" There was no way the two would get anywhere if Lukas kept this silly act up.

"Like he'll want to be friends with me either way. His experiment failed, remember? He proved I have no redeeming qualities."

"Would you stop fucking saying that? You know it's not true."

Lukas deadpanned. "Name one good thing about me."

"Well, you kept me off the streets, for one," Emil shot back, almost offended Lukas didn't realize that.

"I had to."

"No, you didn't. You could've just given me over to some orphanage or kicked me out or something, but you kept me." His voice cracked embarrassingly, and his cheeks went red. "And you managed to keep the entire household running as a fourteen-year old boy."

"Yes, by illegal means," Lukas countered. "I kind of screwed that up too. What horrible type of guardian sells pot for a living?"

"I didn't turn out that bad, did I?"

"No, but-"

"Then why should it matter? Sure, your means of income are a bit sketchy, but that doesn't mean you failed." It wasn't like Emil was smoking pot or some idiocy like that (not that there weren't good people who did smoke pot). He had turned out just fine with Lukas as a guardian.

Lukas bit into one of the doughnuts. "Alright, so in my entire existence, I did one good thing. Your point?"

"You care about people." Emil held his gaze. "You can try to argue all you want, but I know you care about me, and I'm sure you care about Matthias as well."

"I guess," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper, "but he'll probably never know."

"And why do you think?" Emil replied with his mouth full of doughnut (which was very attractive, by the way) "You need to tell him how you feel."

"But… What if I don't want this?"

"Don't you?" he asked.

Silence.

"I… I don't know." His voice trembled, like he was about to cry. "Everything's happening so fast, and it's so different… What if I end up not liking it?"

"Maybe you could just stay friends for a while," Emil suggested.

"What?"

"Well, maybe if you just tried be friends a bit longer, you'd see if your feelings are genuine." He took a languid sip of coffee. "You should also probably learn to trust him more. It's just Mat, he's not gonna hurt you."

"But-"

"I know, I know. Trust issues, I get it. Why don't you just try? What's the worst that could happen?"

"Oh, I don't know." Sardonicism crept into his tone. "Maybe we could have a drunken one-night stand, then get into a giant argument."

Emil smirked. "Then it can't possibly get any worse, can it?"

"I suppose."

"So try then! Just apologize, make amends, and if he takes you back you can work it out together."

"Do you think he will?" Lukas asked, genuinely curious. "Take me back, I mean?"

"Mat? Probably. He needs to know you're not going to shut him out again, though." Seeing as Emil wasn't much of an optimist when it came to things like this, he was probably right if he said it would work out.

"Alright, so I won't shut him out then." Easier said than done, but Lukas would manage."

"That's the spirit..." He trailed off, suddenly concerned. "Lukas?"

"Yeah?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you smiling?"

"No," Lukas said even as his grin grew wider.

There was hope yet.

* * *

_"Hey man you disrespecting me?_

_Take him out_

_You gotta keep 'em separated"_

~"Come Out and Play", _Smash_, The Offspring


	13. Look Me in the Eye

**Summation: the addition of a sequence of numbers; the result is their sum or total. If numbers are added sequentially from left to right, any intermediate result is a partial sum, prefix sum, or running total of the summation.**

* * *

"Matthias? Lukas?" their calculus teacher called just after class. "Would both of you come here please?"

Lukas walked to the front of the room in silence.

Matthias followed, albeit begrudgingly. "What is it?"

The teacher addressed Mat first. "You've been having a particularly difficult time with this last unit."

"Thanks for reminding me," Mat groaned, rolling his eyes.

"My point was, I was thinking that since you two are such good friends, you wouldn't mind having a study session this afternoon. I can give you both passes to the school library."

Well, there was no way in hell Mat was going to agree to this. "I'm not sure if-"

"That should be fine," Lukas interrupted, tone cool and demanding... What was he planning?

"Good," the teacher said before Matthias could protest. "You can both leave now. I'll see you tomorrow."

Lukas turned on his heels and walked out of the room without so much as a 'goodbye' or a 'fuck you'. Mat didn't even get the chance to ask why the punk had agreed to this stupid arrangement.

* * *

The cafeteria was as crowded as usual, and Mat had no idea where to sit. He'd been ostracized from the Nordic Five (Nordic Four?) table yesterday after a rather humiliating standoff with Lukas (because honestly, how could anyone bring fractals into an argument and not expect to be called a geek?). He was typically pretty extroverted and willing to meet new people, but he felt it would be awkward to randomly sit in some foreign clique's territory.

He was still searching for a free table when someone tapped him on the back. "Matthias?"

Matthias swiveled around to see someone just a little too familiar. What was his name again? Hadn't Lukas called him 'Trouble'? Yeah, that'd work for now.

Trouble stared back at him with dazzling and intimidating green eyes. "I'm Arthur Kirkland – from the party, remember?"

Oh! Arthur! That was right! "What is it?"

"I heard what happened with you and Lukas, and I thought you might want to speak with me."

He bristled in frustration at the mention of Lukas. "And why exactly would I want to speak with you?"

Arthur didn't waver. "Because I know exactly how you feel."

Caught off guard, Matthias forgot about arguing."You... What?"

"Lukas probably didn't tell you that I'm his ex."

Actually, now that he thought about it... "I think he implied it."

He nodded. "We broke up about a year and a half ago. I'm very sorry you had to go through that." Arthur's voice was dripping with honey, soft and sweet and sticky. This was flattery – Matthias was sure of it.

Something was amiss; he could feel it in his bones.

Attempting to counter the trap Mat knew he'd fall into, he said, "Well, he did seem pretty embarrassed, and-"

"He was still an arse to you."

"I guess…"

Arthur looked down at the silver watch on his wrist. "Oh, look at the time! Unfortunately, I've got to go. Let's talk later, okay?"

"Uhh..."

And then he was gone.

"Yo Mat!" Emil greeted, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Mat jumped, but the younger what are you doing with Arthur Jerkland?"

Ha! Arthur Jerkland! He'd have to use that one later...

He shrugged. "We were just talking. He didn't seem that bad." Except for that pretentious air and the fact that he totally wanted something from Matthias (but what?).

Emil's eyes widened. "No, you don't wanna mess with him. He's pretty good at kissing up, but he's kind of a total bitch. Always planning something..." But then his mind seemed to switch tracks, and he smiled. "His step-brother's pretty cool, though."

How was he supposed to respond to that? Uninspired, he simply gave the boy an idiotic grin and an agreeable, "Oh, okay."

"Hey, wanna sit with me and Tino?" He bit his lip. "We're still friends, right?"

"Yeah, we're still friends. Is Luke not sitting with you?" Because as cool as Emil and Tino were, he didn't want any more interaction with Lukas than strictly necessary.

"Naw, he ditched. C'mon, let's go!"

* * *

Lukas was almost certain Matthias would skip his tutoring session after class. That didn't stop him from power-walking to the library as fast as was socially acceptable right after the bell rang.

Lucky for him, Mat was too uptight to ditch anything a teacher told him to go to.

"Why the fuck did you agree to this?" Mat asked in greeting, gaze cold and brow furrowed into a scowl. He sat at a small table, atop which sat a binder and two freshly-sharpened pencils.

Oh, the dork. He was so adorable. But he couldn't just say that, now could he?

The punk set his bag down, taking a seat next to Matthias as he gave him his most serene look. "Why complain? I'm willing to help you."

But Lukas had already screwed up, and Mat was skeptical at best. "You wouldn't help me if you weren't getting something out of it. What do you want from me?"

_Your undying love. _"Nothing," Luke insisted.

"Sure." He rolled his eyes. "Okay, let's get this over with. You wanna do tonight's homework?"

"Sounds fine." Lukas pulled out his math work. "Did you have any questions?"

"Yeah. What formula do I use for question two?"

"Weren't you listening in class yesterday?"

Matthias let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl. "I would've been, had you not been distracting me," he shot back in aggression.

"Calm down. You look stupid when you're angry." He took out a sheet of paper and scribbled down the formula. Matthias seemed to calm down a little, pouting silently in his place.

Lukas had to suppress a smirk; Mat looked like a puppy when he pouted. But, for the sake of his reputation, he kept his face neutral as he could, asking him, "Is anything unclear?"

His scowl faded slightly as he read Lukas' writing. "Do you want to explain any of the symbols you wrote down? Or is that just intuitive to you?"

"It's not that difficult to figure out." He pointed at a sigma on the paper. "That's a sum sign, and there's-"

Mat stopped him. "I meant the variables. I'm not stupid."

"Oh." Well, that was a bit embarrassing.

Surprisingly, Matthias actually smirked. "I know, shocking, right? Wanna explain this to me now? And maybe you could not half-ass it this time?"

Lukas wasn't sure whether to interpret his sardonicism as a sign of friendliness or frustration. "Has anyone ever told you how nice you are?"

"Not sarcastically."

"Well," he replied with a shrug, "there's a first time for everything."

"That was pretty cliché for you," he bantered back.

Luke looked at the ground, defeated. "I ran out of comebacks."

Matthias let out a small laugh. "Not as witty as you thought, huh? I overestimated you."

"I thought you said you hated me." Oh no. Luke hadn't just said that, had he?

The smile on Mat's face disappeared immediately, their fragile casual conversation switching into one much more serious."I never said that! I just-"

"Quit the band and stopped talking to me?" he scoffed. Ooh, this was bad. He really couldn't stop himself, could he?

Perhaps he was a bit too accustomed to being an asshole.

"You asked for it!" he countered, clenching his fists. "You literally asked for it!"

Lukas' inner douche bag found it necessary to point out that, "I asked you to punch me, not hate me."

"You and your technicalities!" Matthias sneered. "Y'know what? This isn't gonna work. Thanks for the help. I'm leaving. Bye." And with that, he turned to leave.

Oh, not on Lukas' watch. Not again. "Wait."

Matthias looked incredulous. "No!" By then, he was almost out the door to the library.

"Wait!" He ran to catch him, each step filled with stubborn determination.

Fortunately, Luke was faster than Matthias. Just as the nerd entered the hallway, he grabbed him by the strap of his dorky backpack to restrain him, then holding his arm for reinforcement.

After realizing he couldn't get away, he spluttered a furious "fuck you!", thrashing and kicking in vain.

Damn, Lukas was strong.

Lukas met his glare with a softer gaze, loosening his grip just a bit. "Stay here. Please."

He finally managed to break free, letting out an exasperated moan. "For fuck's sake, what is it?"

"I…" Was now a good time to make things right? "I wanted…" Would he listen to him?

Matthias was a nice person; he wouldn't be mean if Lukas really meant it… Right?

"What?" he demanded impatiently, ready to leave at any sign of bad intent. "What do you want?"

Seeing as he probably wouldn't get another chance if he waited now, Lukas psyched himself up and stood at his full height, shooting Mat his most confident, serious expression. "I wanted to apologize."

He gaped. "You-"

"Don't interrupt me. Let me finish before I lose my nerve," he said quickly, backing up a little in discomfort. Words spilled from his mouth in a disorderly stream: "I know I was wrong, I know I've been horrible to you, and I know that it's probably too late now, but… I was wondering if you could give me a second chance. I realize you probably won't believe me, but I really do like you. Do you think we could at least try to be friends again?"

Matthias seemed to contemplate this for a moment, taking in what had just been said. Finally, his jaw tightened, and he sternly responded, "Why should I? Give me one reason to trust that you're not going to do that again."

Lukas couldn't say anything, averting his gaze to the ground and biting his lips. Tears stung at his eyes.

"That's what I fucking thought!" he accused, noting Luke's discomfort. "What is it? Do you need a drummer for your shit band? Is that it? You expect me to play for you, then you can just leave me hanging again? No thanks!"

His nails dug into his pals hard enough that he might have drawn blood, and… Oh, no. No, no, no. He was _not _going to cry in front of Mat. No way.

"Do you not understand how horrible it is to be so cold and unfeeling? I just don't get why you'd bother with me. You think it's fun to pretend you like someone? To let them think they're your friend, that they might be into you, and then cut me off? What do you even think of me? What am I to you?"

Mat grabbed Luke's jaw, pulling his face up so their eyes met.

Tear tracks streaked his cheeks. His reply was vulnerable, and his voice cracked twice as he uttered the words. "I... I love you, okay?"

Then he ran fast as he could, not stopping until he was sure he wouldn't be found.

* * *

_"Now you'll never see_

_What you've done to me_

_You can take back your memories, they're no good to me_

_And here's all your lies_

_You can't look me in the eyes_

_With the sad, sad look that you wear so well"_

~"Gives You Hell", _When the World Comes Down, _All-American Rejects


	14. So Sorry

**Dramatic Structure of _Hamlet_: in Shakespeare's day, dramas were usually expected to focus on action, not character. In Hamlet, Shakespeare reverses this so that it is through the soliloquies, not the action, that the audience learns Hamlet's motives, thoughts, and fatal indecision.**

* * *

Lukas had immersed himself in his studies, which was probably one of the strangest compulsions he'd acquired these last couple days. He hadn't sung since the last gig he'd had with Matthias. He'd taken to spending long hours in his room, listening to the comforting sounds of Sham 69 and Crass as he did his English or Chemistry homework. He procrastinated only his calculus work, seeing as it only served to remind him of Matthias.

The day after his embarrassing confession, he sat upside down on the couch, head hanging down toward the ground as he read _Hamlet_ (it was mandatory reading, and he needed to finish it within two days). Just as he was finishing up Act III, Scene II, there came a knock at the door, not loud but firm and resolute.

He sighed as he dog-eared the page, walking begrudgingly to get the door. Emil wasn't even home; who in their right mind would want to bother him?

Apparently Berwald.

"You?" he sneered. Perhaps he was being a bit ruder than necessary, but honestly, why Berwald?

He shrugged. "Yeah."

"Why?" Lukas furrowed his eyebrows, still incredulous.

"Need to talk t'you," he offered simply, as if he needed no further explanation.

Lukas looked up to meet his eyes (who had allowed him to be so tall?), gazing at the sympathy and worry he saw etched into Berwald's features with an air of suspicion. "About what?"

Berwald winced. "Matthias."

Well, Lukas had definitely heard enough of that. He slammed the door and locked it, and he was starting to return to his reading when-

Knock, knock, knock!

Oh, Berwald was funny. Did he actually think Lukas would-

Knock, knock, knock, knock!

Truthfully, it was somewhat obnoxious, but that didn't mean he couldn't handle-

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

"Fucking fine," Lukas growled. This time he answered the door with a scathing "why the fuck?", and his most intimidating glare – which wasn't nearly so scary as Berwald's, but at least it was more formidable than, say, Emil's.

"Y'like him," Berwald, aka Captain Obvious, stated.

Lukas seethed. "And?"

There was a momentary silence as Berwald took in Luke's expression.

The Swede, in all his sneakiness, decided to change tactics. "We c'n watch a movie 'r something."

Oh dear god. Was Berwald always so amusing? What would they watch, anyway – Mamma Mia? Lukas saw right through the attempted diversion. "You're still going to want to talk about Mat though."

"Yup." At least he was honest.

"Why?" he demanded. "Why should you care?"

He shrugged again. "Care 'bout my friends."

"We're not exactly friends, Berwald," he replied. "I mean, yeah, we hang out together-" He would have gone on in confidence had he not caught a glance at Ber's death glare. "...And, ah, I guess I know you kind of well, and I get that-" And then he broke down under the pressure. "Okay fine, we're friends. Just stop glaring at me."

The bastard smirked, as of that had been his plan all along. Jerk. "'Kay."

"You wanted to talk about Mat?" he said with a sigh as he let him into the house and led him into the living room.

"Yeah." Berwald watched as Lukas sat back down on one of the couches, opening his book. The other boy, not really in the mood to sit, just stood awkwardly, looking on as Lukas turned the page without so much as sparing him a glance.

"What about him?" Luke asked, still reading. "You know how I feel, and you know it'll never work out. Did you want to rub it in my face, or give me false hope?" His tone was entirely apathetic and robotic, as if he didn't care either way.

Berwald wasn't fooled. "Not false hope. It could happen."

Yes, in some alternate universe, maybe. A bitter smile played at Lukas' lips, either because of the Hamlet's angst or his own. "Oh, really? Because I'm fairly certain he hates me. He pretty much said so yesterday."

"Really?" That didn't sound like Matthias, but given the recent series of events, Berwald couldn't say he was surprised.

"He called me cold and unfeeling," he replied coldly and without feeling.

The Swede had to keep himself from snorting, in spite of the severity of the situation. "How'd you reply?"

"I told him I loved him." He turned another page. "Then I ran away." His voice was still completely calm and serene, but Berwald could see the tears welling up in his eyes, the way his hands shook and his lip quivered, the contortion of his cheek where he was biting the inside of it.

Lukas' façade was broken… And only Matthias could fix it.

Berwald figured it wouldn't take much to get him to break. "So-"

"I know, it was stupid."

And apparently, one word was enough. Berwald was okay with that – it made his job easier, at least.

But he couldn't exactly leave Lukas feeling like an idiot. No, he must be a source of comfort and confidence. That was what Emil had said when he'd put him up to this, right? "Wait-"

Lukas finally put the book down, rubbing his temples in frustration and shaking his head, as if that would shake the embarrassing and painful memories out of his skull. "Ugh, I wish I could just take it back! I should talk to him again."

Well, Berwald couldn't argue with that. "Yeah."

The punk seemed to have a moment of realization, standing up and grabbing Berwald by the shoulders. "You're right, Berwald, I should talk to him. Great idea, by the way."

Wait, that hadn't been his idea! He couldn't just take credit for that; Lukas was the one who'd thought of that. "But you-"

He interrupted, removing his hands from Berwald's shoulders as he spoke. "But what should I say? I can't just tell him I'm sorry. That's what I did last time, and you and I both know how well that worked."

"You could wait," was the first thing that popped into his head.

Lukas cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"Give him time t'calm down first. Hell, give y'rself time t'calm down first." Yeah, that sounded decent. _Good job, Berwald_, he thought to himself._ You didn't completely fuck up._

"Alright," he agreed. "That's probably a better idea. I think I can figure out the rest myself."

And good thing, too – Berwald wasn't quite sure how much more of this advice stuff he could handle. "'Kay."

"So... You said we could watch a movie?" Well, if they were friends, might as well do it properly. "You like ABBA, right?"

"Yeah." No shit.

"I've got Mamma Mia. Would that be okay?" Wait, why had he just admitted to liking Mamma Mia? His reputation didn't need this, his-

Oh, fuck it. He'd already broken down crying in public; there really wasn't much of a reputation to uphold anymore.

They ended up having fun, sharing a bowl of popcorn in silence as the movie played.

* * *

Berwald and Tino had both been asked to go to Matthias' and Lukas' houses by Emil, but Tino wasn't quite sure how effective he'd be. He'd never been the best at giving advice, but he did have blankets and cookies at his house, so it couldn't turn out too badly, could it?

It was by this logic that Tino knocked on the door timidly, not quite sure what to say, but wholly decided that he would not leave Matthias alone until he'd done something to help him.

Matthias answered the door unshaven and in his pajamas, with an uncharacteristic 'done with your bullshit' expression on his face. "What do you want?"

Well, this was off to a great start. "Mat, I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"Do I look okay to you?" he said with a smirk, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"No?" he squeaked, unsure of how exactly he was supposed to respond to such a question. I mean, you look great! It's just... You seem kinda sad and angry..."

He ran a hand through his uncombed, unwashed hair. "No shit."

Okay, this was clearly not working. Tino changed tactics. "Okay, that's it. You're coming with me." He grabbed Matthias by the hands, and started to pull him out of the house.

"What the fuck?" Matthias cried indignantly as he tripped out the door.

"We're going to my house. C'mon!" And with that, he got a firmer grasp on one arm and ran down the driveway, Mat in tow.

"Tino, I'm wearing pajamas!" he complained in one last half-hearted attempt to reason with Tino.

"And?" Tino asked as he pushed Matthias into the passenger seat of his car. "That just means you'll be more comfortable! Let's go!"

* * *

"Okay, so what's up?" Tino asked, putting a plate of cookies in front of Matthias, because while he was rather socially awkward, he knew that his mother could make some amazing cookies, which would help at least a little, right?

Matthias took a cookie and bit into it before replying, mouth still full, "Well, I think I just fucked up."

"I'm sure it's not that bad," Finland tried to say consolingly, putting his hand on Mat's in something of a comforting gesture.

The other didn't look so sure. "I told Luke he was a jerk."

Tino winced, but continued nonetheless. "Well, you weren't exactly lying. How did he reply?"

"He told me he loved me and ran away crying," he said, deadpanning.

Okay, Tino had not been expecting that. "Oh. Oh, shit. You fucked up." Wait, had he really just said that aloud?

"Wow, thanks, Tino." Yup, he had. "Great consolation right there. Ten out of ten, would recommend."

"That's not what I meant!" he spluttered. "I mean- well, I guess you did make a bit of a mistake, but that doesn't mean you can't fix it!"

"And how exactly am I supposed to fix this?" He clenched his fists, knuckles turning white at the pressure.

"Umm… Well, you could apologize, for one." Oh, that was stupid! Matthias had probably already thought of that, and who knew if Lukas would even let him talk, anyway?

Mat's gaze softened into a pout, Tino was reminded of a puppy dog. "I just broke this guy's heart. I don't think a quick 'sorry I fucked up' is gonna cut it, Ti."

"I guess you're right," he sighed.

"Okay, great." Having finished the first cookie, he went for another. "Any advice?"

Advice? Tino? Right, like that was gonna happen. "Well, why did you two fall out in the first place?"

"We kinda did some, ah, questionable things." He blushed, diverting his gaze to the ground. "Then I quit the band and left."

"I know," Tino replied, "but why?"

"Right before I left, he started messing around with my words. He tried to make it seem like everything was my fault."

Tino tilted his head to look more directly at Mat. "Okay, and why do you think Lukas did that?"

"Ummm... I don't know."

"You sure?" He started to smile – he knew something Matthias didn't.

Matthias blinked. "Uh, yeah."

"You know what I think?" he asked slyly, meeting his friend's gaze in confidence.

"What?"

Realizing, that Mat was feeling a bit confused and slightly uncomfortable, he lowered his voice to a stage whisper. "I think he was scared."

"Of me?" He queried, gesturing to himself.

"This isn't the first time he's been in a situation like this," Tino explained. "Last time he was in a relationship, the boy cheated on him and dumped him. He doesn't trust you. He's scared of you."

The other boy still didn't seem to understand. "If he's scared of me, then why did he tell me how he felt? I thought he hated telling people things."

"Because," he shot back, "as much as he doesn't want to trust you, and doesn't want to fall in love with you, I don't think he could stand not being around you. I don't think he's been this close with anyone but Emil since Arthur broke up with him. You need to talk to Lukas."

Finally, Matthias nodded in agreement. "I guess I probably should. What do I say though?"

"Just say how you're feeling, or what needs to happen if you want him to be your friend."

"And what does need to happen?" He asked, at a loss.

"Matthias, you need to be able to trust each other. Otherwise, you two will be hurting each other forever. Got it?"

"Got it," he replied, finality in his voice. "I can talk to him tonight."

"Good," Tino said, and with that, his mission was accomplished, having somehow managed to give Mat decent advice.

* * *

Late that evening, Lukas had just started Act IV of _Hamlet_ when there came another knock at the door.

Which was strange, because Lukas couldn't recall inviting anyone over, and he'd already had one unannounced visitor that day. However, feeling slightly more affable than he had been earlier, he answered the door with an air of slight optimism, figuring that at least he wouldn't have to speak to Matthias yet.

Until, of course, he opened the door to see Matthias, the one person he wasn't willing to speak to at that moment.

"We need to talk," he greeted, face slack save for the slight crease between his eyebrows.

And just like that, Lukas' mood was ruined. Way to go, Mat.

"I don't think we have anything to say to each other," he sniffed, ready to shut the door again until he could collect his thoughts. When Berwald had recommended that they talk, Lukas had assumed he had meant the next day or the next week, not in a few hours. He wasn't ready for this.

Just as the door started to close, Matthias grabbed it, keeping it stuck in his strong grip as Luke tried in vain to slam it in his face. "Lukas, you can't just say something like that and expect me to ignore you."

"I don't expect you to ignore me," he said sweetly, but he scowled and his tone turned sour as he added: "I require it."

Matthias cocked his head, competitive spirit set aflame. "You can't make me do anything."

"True, but I assumed you wouldn't want to be a jerk," he practically spat in reply. Well, Berwald's advice had just flown out the window. Maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe he and Mat were just physically incapable of working together, constantly clashing and resisting like oil and water.

Maybe the problem wasn't that they didn't have enough in common – perhaps it was that they had too much in common, their similarities repelling each other like two magnets trying to touch at the same side.

"I think both of us already passed that point."

Lukas didn't argue, for the sole reason that he couldn't.

"Look," the other continued, "I'm sorry I yelled at you yesterday, but I have no idea what's going on. I don't know what to think of you, Lukas."

There was a long pause as Luke considered. Finally, he let out a long, low sigh. "Fine, come in."

"So," Lukas said into a mug of coffee (because honestly, there was no way he'd be able to handle this conversation without coffee). "What did you want to hear?"

"Maybe an explanation?" Matthias suggested.

Lukas chanced a glance at the boy, only to see his stern glare, eyebrows raised in expectation. His shoulders slumped. "Must I?"

"I think you ought to, Lukas. I'm kind of sick of not knowing what's going on in your head."

"Maybe I don't want you to know what's going on in my head."

"Then why did you say that?" he countered, skewering Lukas' argument in one fell swoop.

He flinched, bringing his coffee mug down to the table sharply enough that a bit of coffee splattered out. "That was a mistake. You weren't supposed to hear that."

Why had he spilled his guts to Matthias, again?

"I just don't understand," he replied, flustered. "Why's it such a fucking tragedy if I know what you're thinking?"

Lukas stared at the ground. "It's risky. You could take advantage of it."

"Do you not trust me at all?" Matthias demanded, voice cracking just a bit (whether due to hormones or his hurt feelings, he'd never know). "When have I ever taken advantage of you?"

"You haven't yet, but who's to say you won't? How can I know?" Lukas was being paranoid, and he knew it, but that didn't keep him from continuing on with his argument.

There was a pause before Matthias spoke again, tone almost sympathetic. "Luke, you're never gonna get friends if you act like you don't trust or care about anyone."

Okay, he could do without the patronization. "I don't need friends. Didn't I tell you that the first time we met?"

Mat looked like he was about to snap at Luke, but then he seemed to think better of it. The crease between his eyebrows smoothed out, and his glare softened into a look of sympathy. However, his tone was still stern as he said, "Look, I could walk out the door right now. I could just leave now and never have to see you again. I really don't want to. I know I haven't exactly shown it these past couple days, but I'd love to try this friend thing again. But if you can't trust me, I don't know if this is going to work."

He wanted to... What? Lukas almost had to suppress a blush. But how was he supposed to trust Matthias? It wasn't that he was particularly sketchy, Lukas just wasn't sure he wanted to rely on other people like that. "I know... I know. It's just-"

"Luke, tell me this," Matthias interrupted, staring at the door. "If I left right now, what would you do? Be completely honest."

"I wouldn't be happy. I'd probably regret not making you stay. I might cry." His words were terse and awkward, and his cheeks were stained red as he spoke, but Lukas felt more accomplished than he had in years.

He hadn't run away from his feelings — he'd admitted to them.

Mat was awestruck, but he concealed it well behind a sly smile. "See, that wasn't so hard." Instead of walking out the door, he moved to sit next to Lukas on the couch, close enough that their thighs touched.

"Are you kidding me?" Lukas buried his head in his hands. "I feel like I'm gonna die."

The other rubbed a gentle hand up and down Luke's back in a comforting gesture. "And you're willing to admit that, which is good," he assured him.

Lukas groaned, still bashful, but he sat up and removed Mat's hand from his back. "I guess."

"Okay, so how did you feel the morning after we-" He bit his lip, "-y'know, _that_ happened."

He snorted. "What is this? An interrogation?"

"Would it help if I said how I felt?" Matthias asked.

"Maybe."

"Alright, I guess I will then. It was mostly just kind of embarrassing. I was worried you were going to get mad at me."

"Me too. That's exactly how…" He trailed off.

Mat finished for him. "How you felt?"

He nodded, unable to think of anything to say.

"Really? I thought you said one-night stands were normal for you."

"I lied," he replied bluntly, ready to at least try telling Matthias how he felt. "I didn't want you to make a big deal about it, or think I meant anything by it."

Something seemed to flicker in Mat's eyes, and Lukas wasn't sure whether to feel reassured or nervous. "And did you mean anything you said that night?"

"Yeah," he said, "I meant every word."

"Oh." There was no inflection in the word — nothing to indicate whether Matthias was angry or ecstatic or depressed by Luke's statement. It was nerve-wracking.

"I'm sorry," he blurted, keeping his eyes off of the other.

"Sorry?" The nerd sounded incredulous. "About what?"

"For overreacting," he started. "And for pushing you away..."

Matthias flashed a small smile, resting his hand on Luke's and intertwining their fingers. "It's okay, Luke. I think I understand."

"I'm sorry I love you." Matthias clearly wasn't angry at him anymore... So why did Lukas still feel so ashamed?

He blinked. "What? Lukas, that's not something to apologize for."

"I thought you wanted me to apologize."

"Not for that. I'm not that much of an asshole."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Mat said, wrapping his arms around Lukas in a hug.

"You said you couldn't trust me enough to be my friend yesterday," Lukas remarked, burying his cheek in Mat's shirt. "What changed your mind?"

He pulled back, flustered at that question. "Well, uhh... I..." He distractedly scratched the back of his head.

Lukas managed to hold his gaze. "What is it?" he demanded. "Spill."

"I might have a bit of a crush on you," Matthias squeaked. "I didn't want you to break my heart again, but... Someone convinced me that I should try to understand you better before giving up."

"Oh." Again, no inflections, no emotion. Just 'oh'.

"So..." Mat trailed off with a short, awkward laugh. "Uh, friends? Or should we be boyfr-"

Lukas covered the other's mouth with his hand, effectively cutting Matthias off. "Friends. Please. I'm not ready for that level of awkwardness yet."

He removed the hand, allowing Matthias to reply, "Right. Okay, friends."

"Friends... Yeah."

"Sweet."

They spent the rest of the evening sitting in a comfortable silence as Lukas' forgotten coffee went cold.

* * *

_"Where are you?_

_And I'm so sorry._

_I cannot sleep, I cannot dream tonight._

_I need somebody and always_

_This sick strange darkness_

_Comes creeping on so haunting every time."_

~"I Miss You", _Blink-182_, Blink-182


	15. You Can Jive

**Refrigerator: is a common household appliance that consists of a thermally insulated compartment and a heat pump that transfers heat from the inside of the fridge to its external environment so that the inside of the fridge is cooled to a temperature below the ambient temperature of the room.**

Matthias hadn't known what to expect when he'd been called downstairs by his mother.

All he knew was that he wasn't expecting this.

"No parties."

"Okay."

Ms. Andersen stood at the front door, gripping a handbag with one hand and pointing demandingly at him with the other.

"No staying out past midnight."

"Okay."

There was a suitcase at her side, along with the briefcase that Mat's mom typically brought to work.

"No friends over."

He groaned. "Okay, okay, okay! I get it, Mom!"

And, realizing that any further rambling would be useless, she relented. "Alright, just don't do anything stupid, okay? My number's on the counter if you need it."

"Well, it's already saved on my cell," Matthias found it necessary to point out, "but-"

"And Mat: I'm trusting you, okay?" She looked him in the eye, as if in a silent plea. "If you do well with this, I might consider loosening the reigns a bit."

Oh, and if that didn't sound amazing... "Got it."

"Great. I'll see you Sunday afternoon!"

"Alright, bye Mom!"

And with that, she gave him a quick peck on the forehead, picked up her bags, and made her way out of the house.

So Matthias found himself watching television on the couch, fully ready to follow all the rules he'd been given, no matter stupid they seemed.

He might have gotten away with it, too, had Emil not called five minutes later.

"Hey Mat, heard your mom's out for the weekend," he said before Mat could even say 'hello'.

"Yeah, what about it?" Matthias shot back. This already sounded like trouble (though pretty much everything sounded like trouble where the Bondeviks were concerned).

Emil's tone was flat and uninterested and decidedly close to Lukas' as he replied, "I'm coming over."

Shit.

"What?" Matthias cried, grip on the phone tightening as his eyebrows shot up. His mom had only been gone for five minutes; he couldn't blatantly disobey her yet. "No! I mean, why would you want to do that? And how did you know my mom was going out, anyway?"

Had they been talking in person, Mat would have seen Emil shrug his shoulders and smirk bemusedly. "I have my methods. Anyway, I'll be over in about twenty minutes."

"Emil, wait! Why don't we go to Tino's instead?" Tino wouldn't mind them coming over, right? That way, they wouldn't end up getting arrested or some shit.

Well, the chances of them getting arrested were next to nil, but he did have to worry about his mother. And knowing Ms. Andersen, his punishment for breaking the rules might be worse than a prison sentence.

"We can't go to Tino's."

Mat furrowed his eyebrows. "Uh, why not?"

"He's sick," Emil explained. "He even called to cancel on Berwald, so it must be some pretty serious shit. Lukas is at his house right now; he said he was gonna help take care of him."

"Oh. Well. Uh, how about Berwald's then?" He'd never actually been to Berwald's, but it couldn't be that bad, right?

There was a contemplative pause as the other boy considered this. "Okay, I guess that works. Pick me up, and I can give you directions."

"Alright."

"Sweet. See you in a few!" Then the line went dead.

* * *

Emil didn't even bother knocking before he barged through the door, Matthias in tow. "Oi, Berwald!"

"Wait, did you even call him beforehand?" Mat said, voice lowered to a stage-whisper (which was about as quiet as Mat could handle). "Does he even know we're coming?"

"Nah, but his parents are both out of town on business, and it's not like he has anything better to do. I mean, it's not like he has a social li-" and then he cut off.

"What's that?" Berwald asked, hands on his hips, a single eyebrow cocked. He looked sassier than Mat had ever seen him before (not that he didn't like this new development). He was also wearing a pastel pink apron with lace, but damn, he could rock it.

Mat half-expected Emil to cower or show some sign of intimidation – hell, even Lukas was intimidated by Berwald sometimes – but he just snorted and shot him a dastardly smirk. "C'mon, Ber, you can't even argue with me. No one in this band has a real social life except me."

No one argued, which only further manifested the truth in the boy's words.

"Anyway," Emil continued, breaking the few moments of awkward silence that had fallen over them. "What's up, Ber?"

"Bakin' a cake for Tino."

The other two were both dubious, looking at each other silently in a gesture of 'wait, did I hear that right? Really?', but Berwald didn't seem perturbed, simply leading them into the kitchen.

"Um, alright," Matthias finally said as Berwald handed him an apron. I guess that wouldn't be so bad. My mom wouldn't mind me baking a cake at a friend's house, right?"

Emil rolled his eyes, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt so as not to dirty it while he was baking. "Why would she?"

"I don't know. What if we accidentally burned the house down?"

"Been bakin' since I was five." Berwald looked him in the eyes, face deadpan. "We aren't gonna burn the house down."

And, being assured that he really was just being paranoid, Matthias relented. "Okay, okay. Sorry, I know, I'm overreacting."

"Want an apron?" Berwald asked Emil, holding out another frilly apron (why did he have so many?).

"Nah." He waved his hand dismissively, not even giving the fashion disaster a second glance.

"Ya sure?" Ber walked over to the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs.

"Absolutely positive." Emil said, pouting as Berwald cracked two eggs into the bowl if batter on the table. "I know how to keep batter off of my clo-whoa, holy shit!"

The sudden outburst caught both of them by surprise, and they cast the eyes toward the younger boy, who was staring dumbly into the distance.

"What?" Mat asked. "Emil, are you okay?"

"That..." He trailed off for a moment, as if entirely in awe. "That is a very nice fridge."

Berwald didn't know what he'd been expecting, but he knew he hadn't been expecting that. "S'pose so."

"No, like actually though," he stressed, walking up to said glorious refrigerator and placing his hand on the shiny, stainless steel surface. "It's so... Silver, and the magnets are cute (wow, I like this one's aesthetic), and- wait, is that one of those automatic water and ice dispensers?"

"Yeah." Ber was sort of at a loss. Was he supposed to laugh? Should he call a mental hospital?

Undaunted, Emil let out an impressed whistle. "Classy."

"I guess."

Then there was an uncomfortable silence; Mat and Berwald gave each other unsure looks as Emil continued to observe the refrigerator's ethereal beauty.

Finally, completely weirded out, Matthias tapped him on the shoulder. "So, were you planning on baking? Or are you just gonna check out Berwald's fridge?"

That snapped him out of his trance. "What? I'm not checking out his fridge – that'd be stupid!"

"Keep tellin' yourself that," Berwald quipped as he stirred the mix with a wooden spoon.

"Oh, shut up!" he huffed, blushing out of both embarrassment and anger.

Berwald finally finished stirring. He put the spoon on the counter, but it was quickly stolen by the Dane, who was apparently more interested in eating batter than helping.

"Hey, this batter is really good!" he exclaimed.

And, since he didn't trust Mat's judgement in the slightest, Emil also decided to take a bit of the batter. "Wow, yeah, it is! How'd you do that?"

But as much as Berwald enjoyed the acclamations, he felt obligated to be honest. "Used a box."

This didn't dissuade either if them from thinking the Swede was a culinary genius. "And you did a damn good job of it, too!" Emil praised.

"I'm sure Tino will love it!" Matthias added.

He shrugged."Hope so." Were they patronizing him, or were they just totally clueless?

"So, if the batter's done, why are we still here?"

Okay, they were clueless. "Gotta put it in the oven. Then'll make frosting."

Mat bounced on the balls of his feet, vaguely resembling a puppy dog. "Ooh, frosting sounds fun!"

He smirked. "It is."

* * *

Tino's mother had loved the idea of Lukas coming to take care of her ailing son, especially since she had been planning on running errands that afternoon. She's been sure to leave the door unlocked, and let him know that he could stay as long as he pleased.

Which really was a shame, seeing as Tino locked the door right after his mother left.

Lukas banged on the door again. "Tino, I know you're not really sick! Let me in, you motherfucker!"

The Finn looked opened the window just so he could flip Luke off. Even if he wasn't exactly ill, he really didn't want to talk at the moment. He heard the punk mumble something that sounded sort of like, "that little shit" under his breath.

"If you don't answer the door right now, I'll burn all your Black Sabbath albums!" Lukas yelled, running a hand through the long hair to the left of his face.

He gasped. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, but I would."

And then, rolling his eyes in frustration, he jerked the door open. "What the fuck do you want from me? I'm not exactly in the mood to follow your every beck and call right now."

"I don't want anything from you," Luke replied, letting himself in and removing his coat (if one could really call a jean jacket a 'coat'). "I just wanted to know what was up."

Tino followed him to the living room, acting cordially as he could, even if he wanted nothing more than to punch Luke in the face. "Either you're lying, Lukas, or you've grown soft. You finally done locking your feelings away? Or are you still too punk rock for that?"

Lukas looked mildly concerned (and rightfully so). "God, what's gotten you so angry? All I did was ask what was wrong."

"Well maybe you shouldn't have!" Tino snapped. "You ever thought about how I might feel, huh? Stop pretending you're sympathetic; I don't need your stupid patronization. You have no idea how I feel, and you never will. Do you know what it's like to screw up everything? To stutter every time you try to talk to someone new? To live in constant fear that you're going to let someone else down? I'm strong and independent and no one will ever know because I look and act like such a fucking stupid, delicate flower! I can take care of myself! I don't need your help! I don't need anyone's help! I can't-" Angry tears started falling down his face, and he ducked his head in shame. "I can't even finish telling you off without crying. What the fuck is wrong with me?"

Knowing that he needed consolation, but at a complete loss as to how to help, Luke awkwardly wrapped his arms around him, rubbing his back sort of soothingly (at least, he hoped it was soothing). "Tino, it's okay... It'll be alright..."

"I told everyone I was sick," Tino heaved into his shoulder, "because I was afraid."

The punk didn't have a good response to that, so he offered none.

He laughed bitterly, pulling away from the hug and sitting down on a couch."Well? Aren't you gonna ask why I'm scared so you can protect me or some shit like that?"

"Well, it's not really any of my business."

"You know you want to. Go ahead and say it." Tino wiped the tears from his face, having calmed down a little.

Figuring it was probably best to just listen to him, Luke said, "Fine. Why are you scared?"

Tino deadpanned. "I can't dance."

Oh. Well.

"Um... Is that all?" He was kidding, right?

"Well there's this Valentine's Day dance tomorrow and Berwald's been looking forward to it for weeks and you've seen him dancing he's like a fucking god or something!" He looked as if he was going to ramble on further, but seemed to think better of it, falling silent.

"Yeah," Luke agreed unhelpfully, "he is kind of a... Dancing Queen."

"Would it kill you to take me seriously?" Tino growled in reply. "Or do you have to be an asshole all the time?"

He put his hands up in submission. "Sorry, I can't help myself. But really, Ber's not about to judge you because you can't dance."

But Tino didn't look so sure. "But he'll be so disappointed and I just know that I won't be able to tell him why I'm uncomfortable and I'll have to dance in public and I just know I'm gonna break down."

"Tino, if you're really that scared about it, I don't think Berwald will care. You two can spend Valentine's Day by yourselves or something. Ber's more of an introvert anyway." All truth, though Lukas kind of felt that he had just pulled that response out of his ass.

Which was probably because Lukas had just pulled that response out of his ass.

"I guess..." He was fidgeting now, fingering his hair and pulling at the collar of his short, but at least he wasn't yelling or crying anymore.

"You at least need to talk to him about it, right?" Should he rest a hand on his shoulder? Actually, yeah, that didn't sound so bad.

He placed a hand on his shoulder.

Yes, good going, Luke. Clearly, he was getting better with comforting gestures.

Tino nodded. "Yeah, I probably should."

"Alright then, let's go!" Lukas stood up, realizing belatedly that perhaps he was a bit too excited about this.

"Not right now! I need to psych myself up first. I'll do it tonight though, I promise. But you should go see Mat, if you were still planning on asking him to the dance."

Lukas blushed, though he'd never admit to it. "How did you know I wanted to ask him?"

"I'm just good at reading people."

Yes, of course. "Emil told you, didn't he?"

Tino sighed, defeated. "Yeah."

* * *

"So..." Emil interjected as they waited for the oven timer to go off. "Anyone going to the Valentine's Day Ball tomorrow?"

Bet shrugged. "Would, but Tino's sick."

Emil looked at Matthias.

"I don't have a date."

"How 'bout Lukas?" he suggested, because he was still their official matchmaker and still felt obligated to get them together.

"But we're not even dating!" he shot back, as if they weren't already practically dating. "And he'd think it's stupid anyway. I'm not going."

Alright, so he had a point. "Oh, come on! Just because it's an event dedicated to shitty, sappy, romantical stuff, doesn't mean we can't just crash as friends."

"You say that like you don't like shitty, sappy, romantical stuff."

Because clearly Emil had, right?

Emil rolled his eyes. "Maybe I don't. Ever heard the term 'aromantic'? Y'know, lacking romantic attraction?"

"Oh. Ohhh, I get it. Yeah, let's just crash the dance as friends! Whataya say, Ber? You in?"

"Why not?"

"That's the spirit!" Now that Mat was in, he actually seemed really excited, like a kid in a candy shop, or a Dane in Lego World. "We should go shopping tomorrow and pick out outfits!"

"What, so now we're teenaged girls, too?" Emil scoffed, somewhere between laughing and sneering.

"Sure, because shopping is an inherently feminine trait," he replied, his voice doused in sweet, sweet sarcasm. "C'mon, Emil, I thought you were better than that. And I've totally seen you wear skirts to school before."

"Clothing isn't gendered, bastard!" he yelled. God, had Tumblr taught Matthias nothing?

"So why should shopping be?"

Ooh, burn.

Seeing as he couldn't find a good argument, he conceded. "Fine, fine. Let's go shopping tomorrow."

Suddenly, a loud noise cut through the conversation, and both Emil and Mat jumped in surprise.

Berwald smirked. "'T's the oven timer goin' off. Try not t' swoon, Emil."

For lack of a better phrase, Emil lost his cool. "I'm not attracted to kitchen appliances! I just think your fridge is cool!"

"Mhm." He seemed to pay no mind as he pulled the perfectly-baked cake out of the oven and turned off the timer.

"Hey, listen to me!" he yelled. "I'm serious!"

"Believe ya. You're just fun t' mess with. Anyway, frosting..."

* * *

_"You are the Dancing Queen, young and sweet, only seventeen_

_Dancing Queen, feel the beat from the tambourine_

_You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life"_

~"Dancing Queen", _Arrival_, ABBA


	16. When I Touch You

**Interpersonal attraction: the attraction between people which leads to friendships and romantic relationships. It can be viewed as a force acting between two people that tends to draw them together and resist their separation.**

* * *

There was rehearsal that day. It was, after all, only two weeks before the Battle of the Bands concert. Tino had already made plans with Berwald, and rehearsal had gone really well (like, well enough to kick the Allies' respective asses).

So why was Lukas still uneasy?

"Matthias, I... Uh..."

Oh, right. That.

"What?" Mat asked, brow furrowed in confusion. "What is it?"

Luke sighed. Here went nothing. "Well, I know that we were gonna just be friends for a while, but I was thinking maybe you'd like to go to the dance with me?" Ooh, that sounded bad. Had Lukas just asked Mat on a proper date? Abort mission! Abort mission!

He shook the panicked thoughts from his head, then added an ever-so-casual, "Like, y'know, as friends," for maximum no-homo levels.

Mat shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

It took a moment for Lukas to register the success of his totally definitely completely platonic request, but when he did, he'd had a witty response prepared hours beforehand.

"Really?"

... And that wasn't it. Way to go, Lukas. Nailed it.

"Yeah," the nerd said, undaunted. "Why wouldn't I go with you?"

"Actually, I don't know," Luke realized. But it's not exactly something either of us would typically attend."

"I guess not, but we can still have fun, right?" He got the attention of Emil, who had been sitting on the couch listening to music. "Emil, are you still gonna crash with us?"

"No way," he groaned. "The UST levels are way too high for me. I'll be just fine at home watching Netflix and eating obscene amounts of licorice."

"Suit yourself." He turned to Lukas. "When should we meet up?"

"Maybe seven-thirty?"

"That sounds fine!"

"Sweet."

* * *

Emil's evening had been fairly quiet thus far. He had spent the first few minutes dancing about his empty house with everything from Avril Lavigne to Bach to Elvis to The Dead Milkmen at full volume. He occasionally scrolled through his dash, but really, he was alone for the night, might as well take advantage of it and have some fun.

He considered calling Leon, but realized he'd probably be with his girlfriend for Valentine's Day. As such, he was content with putting on warm, fluffy, and totally manly pajamas and curling up in front of the television with a bowl of popcorn and a bag of licorice to watch Ouran High School Host Club again.

Which worked great for about half an hour, until he heard the curtains rustle.

Ever the ninja, he spun around, careful not to spill his popcorn, brandishing the remote as if it were an incredibly short and blunt katana. "Ah! I got youuu..." He cut himself off, casting his eyes about the empty room. "Oh. There's nothing there. Well. Okay, I'm hearing things. Great."

He really tried to ignore it (maybe it was the wind), but he swore he'd heard something.

"What if I, like, have schizophrenia or something?" he asked himself, slightly concerned. "Shit, that probably wouldn't be good. How am I supposed to get a doctor without them finding out my dad doesn't exist?"

He paused, then: "Why am I talking to myself?"

The conversation only got weirder. "Wait, what if there's actually someone listening to all of this? God, they must think I'm fucking crazy.

"Yeah but look on the bright side: at least you're not still in your scene phase." He shuddered at the memory of his seventh grade self, with unnaturally dyed hair and significantly more makeup than the average thirteen year-old boy wore on a day-to-day basis. There was a brief flashback to the days he'd spent shopping at Hot Topic. "Oh god, my scene phase. Ewww..."

The rustling came again, followed by what seemed to be a muffled snicker.

He stood up. "Okay, there's gotta be someone else here, right? I'm, like, totally not crazy, right?"

"Nope. Definitely not crazy."

Emil spun about on his heels to see the face of evil. "Kirkland? The fuck are you doing in my house?"

"Well," Arthur replied indifferently, casually observing his own fingernails as if they were more interesting than Emil's face (which they clearly weren't, seeing as Emil was definitely the definition of drop-dead gorgeous). "You're not exactly the one we were looking for, but I suppose you'll do. Ivan, knock him out."

The reply was in a light, playful tone, heavily accented and undoubtedly, notoriously Ivan's. "Very well."

"Wait, wha-?!" He felt something strike the top of his head.

Everything went black.

* * *

Lukas didn't make it to the school until eight in the evening, which was the latest he'd ever been to anything (half an hour!). He hadn't even had time to change into anything presentable, so his frayed jeans and black band shirt (wait, what band even was this? Ohh, The Clash, right) would have to do.

There was a tap on his shoulder, and he turned about to find Matthias.

"Hey, I…" Mat waved, though he was clearly a but embarrassed, pink streaking across his cheeks as he ducked his head. "How's it going?"

"I'm alright." Luke bit his lip. "Sorry I'm late, I had to walk and Emil-"

The other boy shook his head. "Don't worry, Luke. It's fine. I'm just happy to see you. I was worried you'd decided you were too punk for this."

"What, too punk to be here with my friend? I'm not that much of an asshole." He rolled his eyes.

"Heh, yeah…" Matthias may have gotten lost in Lukas' eyes, and for a moment, Luke thought he was considering a compliment, but Mat found himself frustrated, settling for a simple "thanks for coming" instead.

It was difficult for Luke not to laugh at him (good-naturedly, of course). He flicked the Dane's forehead. "You dork. I'm the one who asked you."

"I guess you were," Mat replied with an awkward, uncomfortable laugh.

"Y'know, a few months ago, I never would've considered this," Lukas observed. "Tino said I'd grown soft."

Matthias shrugged in reply. "Soft isn't bad. Soft just means you care."

Wow. Eloquent. "Have you always been so sappy?"

"No, but I'm not good at these things. How do you seem so calm?" It was an honest question, and Lukas had to wonder why everyone in this band was making such a big deal out of such a silly ordeal.

This much he voiced. "Why are you stressing out so much? It's just a dance."

"Exactly," Matthias replied flatly, distractedly lacing his fingers with Lukas' as if that was a natural thing that bros did. "It's a dance."

They had inadvertently been moving closer the entire conversation, and Luke's nose was only a few inches away from Mat's. From this proximity, Lukas could see the hair gel in Matthias' hair – clearly, it hadn't stuck, or else his hair might have looked slightly calmer. His suit was freshly-pressed, and he was wearing more Axe than was likely recommended on the container (not that Lukas had read such a container, but he figured it was probably more),

He took in the sheer amount of effort Mat had put into impressing him, and sighed contentedly. "You're adorable. Dance with me."

Taken by surprise, but unable to find a reason to counter, Matthias said, "Alright," and let Luke wrap his left arm around his waist, continuing to hold Mat's hand with his right.

* * *

When Emil awoke, he was sitting in a chair with his arms and legs bound.

Ivan stood in front of him, tall and foreboding.

"Why am I here?" Emil asked, already done with this shit. All the theatrics were honestly just aggravating.

"Silence," the other boy demanded in a steady, confident voice, though his eyes were aimed toward the floor. "I will be the one asking the questions."

He looked almost... Bashful. Like he was ashamed to be doing this.

Great. That just made Emil's job easier. "Y'know, you could get arrested for knocking me out and tying me up like this."

"Are you certain you want to get the police involved? If so, I hope they don't catch wind of your situation at home." The line was convincing, but clearly rehearsed. Maybe that was what Arthur had wanted him to say.

All the same, if Ivan was going through with this, he couldn't risk his family, bribery or no. He looked up a Ivan through his silvery bangs, eyes trying to bore a hole in the Russian's forehead. "What do you want from me?"

The answer was simple. "Information."

"About what?" Emil asked, unimpressed. "The band?" Honestly, would it kill Ivan to at least be specific?

Such a show of confidence was enough to fluster him, if only for a moment "Yes, actually," he relented, voice strained. "Here's the deal: you tell me what I need to know, and I untie you and let you go."

"Sorry bro, but I'm not telling you anything. I don't know if you've ever heard about the right to remain silent, but I'm pretty sure it applies." It didn't, and Emil knew it, but that was beside the point.

"Oh, aren't you cute?" Ivan was suddenly all swagger again (Emil guessed that he'd rehearsed this line). "I don't know if you're aware of this, but Alfred's father is the chief of police here. It would be so, so easy to tell him all the things you and your brother have done. I can only imagine the prison sentence involved – I mean, Lukas has been dealing pot for how long? And keeping you without a guardian? And I'm sure he's committed theft and forgery-"

"Alright, alright!" Emil whined, effectively cutting him off. "I get it! But you know what I think?"

Ivan didn't have anything dignified to say except, "What?"

And with that comment, Emil knew he'd nailed him. "I know your type, Ivan. You and I, we're just alike. All talk, right? You can plot and scheme all you'd like, and you've got the evil monologue down pat, but when it comes down to it, you're honestly just too nice to pull something like this off."

Ivan didn't interrupt, so he went on: "You've obviously done your research, if you know about my situation at home. You know that Lukas and I rely on each other, and that we've done everything we have as honestly as we can to get by. Do you really want that kinda shit on your conscience? Just because Arthur put you up to some stupid torture session or whatever the fuck this is?

"Because really, I don't know how I'd live with myself if I went through with that. Oh, and FYI: it's sorta cowardly to try to destroy people just because you don't wanna have to deal with your higher-up. Trust me, if Lukas put me up to this (and really, I wouldn't even put it past him), there's no way I'd listen to him."

There was a long pause, and Emil imagined himself dropping the mic.

Finally, Ivan met Emil's gaze. "You're right. I don't need to do this. I... Thank you for that."

Emil shrugged. "Anytime. Oh yeah, and one more thing."

"What?"

He stood up, the ropes that bound him falling to the floor. "Your knot-tying is shit."

Ivan bit his lip. "Oh."

Feeling a but sorry for him, he put up his hands in submission and remarked, "It's okay. Just need practice, is all."

"Right."

"I'll just, ah, show myself out now. I think it's for the best."

"Okay. I'll see you at the concert, right?"

"Definitely."

And with that cringe-worthy conversation, Emil strutted out of the room. He continued down the hall and began to walk down the stairs, when suddenly his feet, clad in slippery cotton socks, slipped.

As he slid down the staircase, he attempted in vain to grab something – anything – that would break his fall. Finally, almost at the bottom, he managed by some miracle to grab the railing.

Had it ended there, with only a few bruises located in various places (not least of which his pride), it would have been okay. Sadly, fate had other plans.

Inertia found it necessary to shove him with force enough to break his grip, hurling him into an end table as he flailed his arms about in a last-ditch effort to gain control of his body.

"Holy fucking- ahh! Shitshitshit! Fucking-!"

Pain shot through his outer fingers and up his arms, pricking at his collar bone, and suddenly he couldn't register anything but immense terror searing through his bones.

* * *

Then he wasn't even sure what he was registering anymore.

Their dance was more just glorified swaying, but Matthias was still a but tense about it.

He attempted small talk. "Last time I danced with you, you were drunk."

"I'm better sober."

"Apparently – I hope I don't step on your feet."

"I'm leading. If anything, I'll step on your feet... Or you're worse at this than I thought," he added, the second option just coming to mind.

"Than you thought? How bad did you think I was?" The conversation was a bit strange, seeing as Mat refused to take his eyes off of their feet.

Lukas managed a half-hearted shrug. "I don't know. Last time is a blur. Can't be too bad though – this isn't exactly the most difficult dance in the world."

"How?" Mat told Luke's feet. "I'm so worried I'm gonna screw up."

"We're literally just rocking back and forth and rotating."

"Shut up."

"Although I could make it... More interesting." Suddenly, Luke's grip on Mat's hand tightened and he shoved his back, forcing him into a slightly violent and totally graceless spin.

Matthias stared wide-eyed at Lukas, looking a bit like he'd seen a ghost. "Holy shit! Luke, don't just do that! I'm gonna, like, die or something."

"You make it sound like I aimed a gun at your head. All I did was twirl you," he scoffed. "I didn't even let go of your hand."

"Where did you learn to dance, anyway?" A fair question. Not many punks knew how to dance (not that Luke could dance very well in the first place).

"Arthur," he said as if the very name was poison on his tongue. "He ballroom dances, and he's really good at it."

"Oh. That's right. You dated."

"Can we stop talking about him? It's depressing."

"Sorry."

"It's fine." There was a break in the conversation, so Lukas said, "I'm gonna twirl you again, okay?"

Mat nodded. "Okay- wait what?"

Lukas was fully prepared to force Mat through it again (because if nothing else, the look on his face was totally worth it), but his friend was better-prepared this time, letting his feet follow Luke's gestures as he spun about, then letting out a sigh of relief.

The punk smirked. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"I guess not," he said, though his voice was still shaky. "Is twirling all you do?"

"No, but I don't think you'd like anything else as much." He thought back to more complex movements, then explained, "a lot of it's complicated."

"Is there anything that's not complicated?" Mat pondered meekly.

"Uncomplicated..." Whether it was a general statement about life or simply regarding dancing, Lukas was prepared to answer. "Actually, yeah."

"Really? What is it?" Now he actually seemed excited, which was funny when he'd been freaking out over spinning in a circle not thirty seconds ago.

Well, why not try? "This," Luke exclaimed as pulled him into a dip.

Since Lukas was actually about an inch shorter than Mat, the hold was a bit awkward, and their noses touched, which probably wasn't supposed to happen.

Matthias stared into Luke's eyes.

Luke stared into Mat's.

The Dane inhaled, then: "Is it wrong that I really want to kiss you right now?"

Yes, Luke thought to himself. Yes, kiss me right now.

But Fate chose that moment to make his phone proudly blare out Emil's set ringtone.

He'd told Emil to only call in case of an emergency.

Shit.

Putting Mat down gently as he could, he picked up. "Hello?"

But it wasn't Emil. "Lukas, this is Ivan. I-"

"Ivan Braginsky?" he retorted, shocked and enraged. "How the fuck did you get my brother's phone?"

"That's beside the point. I've got your brother here. He's hurt."

"He's what?!" Luke practically screeched as Mat looked on in fear. "What did you do? If you lay so much as a finger on him-"

"Now's not the time! He tripped down the stairs and crashed into a table. His fingers look misshapen and sort of purple and he's babbling nonsense. I can't get him to calm down."

His brain flashed through his sparse first aid knowledge. "Is he in shock? Wait, are his fingers broken?"

"I think so... For both of those questions... Look, he really wants you here. Should I call a doctor?"

"No!" He yelled a bit more forcefully than he intended to. "I mean, you can't. We'll get found out, you imbecile. I'll be over as soon as possible. In the mean time, get some popsicle sticks and tape to wrap his fingers up with, and for fuck's sake, tell him I'll be there right away."

"Alright. I'll do what I can."

"You'd better," he said grimly before hanging up.

"What is it?" Matthias demanded, having missed the conversation. "Whose fingers are broken?"

Luke wasn't in the mood to talk. "It's Emil," he replied, already turning to leave. "I've gotta go."

Mat nodded."Alright. Uh, call me if you need me?"

But the other boy was already gone.

* * *

Lukas didn't even knock. "Is he okay?" He greeted Ivan.

In the background, he heard Emil yell his name with reckless abandon, followed by panicked yells that indicated the boy was trying as hard as he could not to cry from the pain.

"He started panicking about five minutes ago," Ivan replied, wide-eyed. "He wanted you."

"Oh no." He ran toward the voice until he found his brother, then say at his side. "Emil, are you okay?"

"Fucking! Help!" Emil replied, mind not clear enough for anything more coherent.

"It'll be alright," Luke tried to say soothingly. Just breathe. I need to wrap these twofingers up, okay?"

There was a panicked nod, and it looked like his brother's resolve was moments from cracking as he asked Ivan for the supplies and sent him to go get ice.

He lifted Emil's hand.

His brother gasped as pain shot through his hands and up his arm. "Ahh, that hurts!"

Luke bit his lip. "I know, Emil, but this needs to happen for it to get better, okay?"

Emil nodded into Lukas' shirt as Luke grabbed the popsicle sticks, bracing one against his pinky finger and taping it down until it was taut.

At this point, Emil had given up on trying not to keep himself together as he sobbed into his older neither's shirt, good hand pulled into such a tight fist that his nails were likely drawing blood.

Lukas repeated the procedure for the boy's ring finger, which was also pretty apparently broken. "Just a bit longer, okay? You're doing great, just breathe."

Ivan came back with an ice pack.

Just to be sure nothing could move, Lukas taped the two bound fingers together with his middle finger, then dropped the tape. "Alright, it's all wrapped up. Here, I'll take that ice."

"Can- can we go home now?" Emil whimpered, though he was already starting to calm down a bit.

"Yes," Lukas replied, standing up before helping his brother to his feet. "We can go home now."

An hour later, Lukas knocked on the door to Emil's room. "Emil, can I come in?"

"Yeah," the boy grumbled.

He swept in gracefully, resting a tray on his nightstand. "I brought ibuprofen for the pain and some hot chocolate too. How are you feeling?"

Emil blew a stray lock of hair from his face. "Like shit."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault." He sighed, then looked up at his brother. "Thanks."

"No problem." Then he seemed to remember something. "Oh yeah, the site I was on said you should only have that ice on for twenty minutes at a time. Otherwise it'll like burn your skin or something." He couldn't remember for the life of him what the name of it was (something with apples or something?), but it seemed refutable.

"Oh... Lukas?" His eyes were still bloodshot and tired-looking, and Luke was reminded of the time Emil had fallen from a tree in third grade and sprained his ankle.

"Yeah?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to play the guitar like this?" He showed off his hand, which was covered in more masking tape than a kindergarten art project.

Luke wanted to tell his kid brother that it'd all be okay, that he'd be able to play no problem, but that wasn't true. "I don't know. I don't think you should be."

"But..." His eyes widened in fear. "How are we supposed to do that Battle of the Bands thing?"

He let out a sigh. "I don't think we can. That's it. The Allies won."

* * *

_"Oh please, say to me_

_You'll let me be your man_

_And please, say to me_

_You'll let me hold your hand"_

~"I Want to Hold Your Hand", _Meet the Beatles!_, The Beatles


	17. Lost in the Supermarket

**Fracture: a bone fracture occurs when there is damage to the continuity of the bone, often a result of high stress or impact in the area of discontinuity.**

* * *

Lukas was late for his own meeting, which was a first. Fine, he was an edgy rebel who took no shit, but at least he could claim punctuality.

He didn't even have a good excuse – well, unless sleeping in counted as a good excuse. Sunday was the one day he didn't have any marijuana sales, and he was accustomed to using Saturday nights to catch up on sleep.

So, of course, when he stumbled down the stairs in his boxers at noon, in desperate search of a cup of coffee, he was unexpectedly greeted by the entire band.

That was more than enough to convince him to go back upstairs and try to forget he'd ever gotten out of bed.

Take two occurred fifteen minutes later, when Luke was fully clothed, shaved, hair and teeth brushed, and somewhat ready to face the world. Emil had taken the liberty of making his bandmates lunch, which sounded abnormally generous of him until Lukas realized he had made instant ramen noodles and a pot of coffee.

As he entered his small kitchen, he heard his band's – his friends' – chatter lower to small murmurs in hushed voices.

He sat at the head of the table, and the meeting was silently called to order. "Alright," he started, "I'm sure all of you know why I called this meeting, but for any remaining idiots: two fingers on Emil's left hand are broken. Emil, show them your hand." It was grossly unnecessary, but Emil still lifted his hand and showed off his makeshift splint as Lukas continued. "He can't play guitar like that, so we need to figure out how we're going to play at the concert – that is, _if_ we're going to play at the concert. In addition, we have evidence that the Allies were planning on tormenting and blackmailing Emil as well. Emil?"

The boy cringed, but managed to keep his tone casual. "Yeah, they kinda kidnapped me. I think we got Ivan on our side, but-"

"Ivan?" Tino interrupted suddenly, slamming his fists on the table as his face contorted into a scowl. "You mean, Ivan Braginsky? Ivan the douchebag?"

Emil raised his hands defensively. "Hey, he didn't seem so bad to me."

The remark was ill-received, and Tino's cheeks flushed bright red as his mouth contorted as if he were trying his best not to scream. "Except that he's a total bully and a bad sport. He completely pummeled Toris after he lost the rec league hockey championship."

"Wait, rec league hockey?" Emil scoffed in a superior tone he took on whenever trying to accuse someone of being an imbecile (which Lukas easily recognized seeing as he was accustomed to using that specific shade of sardonicism himself). "You haven't been on the team since, what? Like, fifth grade?"

"Seventh," Tino growled defensively.

The other boy shot him his death glare – well, Emil didn't really have a death glare, but his adorable little puppy-dog pout was spot on. "And what grade are you in now?"

Starting to realize Emil's point, Tino let out a sigh. "Tenth?"

"So you're basing your entire opinion of him on his actions three years ago?" Emil shot back with a saucy smirk, resembling Lukas a bit more than anyone cared to admit.

"Emil, he's in the Allies! You might as well ask why Lukas doesn't like Alfred!" He gestured toward the punk, who put tried his best to stay quiet until the war was passed.

"I don't really think that's justified either," Emil remarked, staring pointedly at Lukas, "but that's beside the point. And no matter what you think of him, his loyalty to Arthur is shaky at best, and I'm about 95.2% sure that we can make him do whatever we'd like."

Tino had no response, which was as close to an agreement as Emil could expect.

He turned to Berwald. "We've still got Peter as a spy, right?"

Ber nodded.

"Sweet. Tino, you can work with those two, right?"

The look Tino gave Emil was murderous, but he quickly averted his gaze, sighing in defeat. "Sure, I guess. I'll come up with a plan right after this meeting. I still don't like the idea of using Ivan, but if you really think he can be trusted... Fine. I think I can come up with something."

And with that reluctant show of support, Emil turned to his brother, who was supposed to be the leader. "Lukas?"

Luke rolled his eyes playfully and shrugged, not feeling wronged but rather like it was silly of Emil to ask his permission. "Well, you're taking charge. Does it sound alright to you?"

"Oh!" Emil interjected, caught off-guard by the fact that Lukas wasn't being a prick. "Uhh, yeah, that sounds fine. Tino, do you think you could plan a sabotage mission for tonight? The sooner we get to them, the better."

Silence fell for a moment as Tino collected his thoughts, then he said, "Probably, but we'll need to send a couple people to the store to buy supplies."

Emil nodded thoughtfully, perfectly amenable insomuch as Tino was willing to cooperate. "Sounds good. Luke? Mat? Can you keep it in your pants long enough to buy some supplies together?"

There were two simultaneous offended gasps, and Lukas and Matthias both shouted, "We're not together!"

Had they not looked ready to fight anyone who dared disagree, Tino might have laughed.

Emil laughed anyway. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say. But does it work?"

"Fine by me," Luke sighed, as if spending time alone with Mat was some sort of chore.

Mat agreed on the condition that they were back before his mother got home at five that evening.

Emil spared a look at his totally hip and retro pocket watch, then silently calculated a plausible schedule."Okay," he finally said, "it's one o' clock right now. Tino, can you have a supply list by, like, I dunno, two-thirty?"

"That should work," Tino replied.

"Awesome. In the mean time: Berwald?"

"Hmm?" Berwald hummed in confusion, having totally tuned out from the conversation. It wasn't like they really needed him for anything, anyway.

"Wanna help me find an instrument to play in the concert? There's gotta be something buried in the garage, but we'll need to look," Emil clarified, and Berwald was actually surprised how crucial his role sounded. Typically, his only purpose was to play the bass and keep everyone else from fucking shit up.

And since he had no reason not to, he shrugged. "Sounds good t'me."

"Sweet. How 'bout we all meet back here at two-thirty to plan the sabotage and see what I can play?" No one replied, and Emil took it as a 'yes'. "Tino, you can plan the sabotage; Ber, come with me; Luke and Mat, you can go make out somewhere."

"We're not dating!" Matthias interjected, ever the amusing broken record.

Emil deadpanned. "Lukas is literally sitting on your lap and resting his head on your shoulder."

"I just woke up! Don't judge me!" Lukas exclaimed sleepily, not moving from his spot on Mat's lap.

His brother rolled his eyes. "Ugh, whatever. C'mon Ber, let's go!"

* * *

"Alright," Emil said to Berwald once they entered the garage, "I'm on rhythm guitar, so we probably need something more on the treble side that has a lot of range."

"Only 'f we wanna mimic th'sound of your guitar," Berwald pointed out as he eyed a baritone saxophone in the corner.

Emil wasn't sold. "Well, if you're willing to learn completely different songs with different instrumentation, you can go ahead and do that."

They continued to search for a minute or so, but to no avail. Finally, Emil let out a frustrated and impatient growl. "Fuck, what kinda instrument only needs one hand?"

The other boy shrugged. "Keyboard."

Clearly, that wasn't the case. Emil had been playing piano for years. He wasn't stupid enough to think he could cover a keyboard part with one hand. "Berwald, no."

"Why not? 'F we cover a Go-Go's song, y'won't need your other hand."

Although a hardcore version of 'We Got the Beat' did sound interesting...

But no, that would be too embarrassing. "I'm not playing anything that laughably easy."

There was awkward silence for a moment, then a little instrument atop a cabinet caught Berwald's eyes. He walked over to it and held it up for Emil to see.

He only stared in horror at the vile excuse for an instrument in the bassist's hand. What idiot had decided to put such an abomination in his garage? Why would anyone think this was a good idea?

"Wanna play th' kazoo?" Berwald asked, and Emil wanted to vomit.

"Alright," he decided, "maybe I should've gotten Luke to help instead."

Since his one valid idea had just been shot down in cold blood, and the number of instruments in the room seemed far too overwhelming, Berwald chose another tactic. "What instruments d'you play, anyway?"

Emil shrugged. "Pretty much everything."

"Bass?"

"Yeah."

"Trumpet?"

"Yup."

"Saxophone."

"Uh-huh."

"Viola-"

"Yes, that too!" Emil interjected before Berwald could list every other instrument he'd ever heard of. "Look, I'm an aspiring music major; I play a ton of shit. If you want a list, I'm pretty sure I play at least twenty instruments, so..."

"Name 'em," Berwald said without inflection.

"What? You don't believe me?" he shot back, totally done with Ber's shit. Why had he picked him again?

"'F one of 'em doesn't need two hands, we'll pick that one," Ber explained before the other had a chance to strangle him.

Something finally dawned on Emil, and his face lit up in realization. "Oh, I get it! Alright, I play guitar, bass, violin, viola, cello, piano, organ, saxophone, trumpet, drums-"

He could have gone on, but Berwald found it necessary to interrupt. "You played drums th's whole time?! We didn' even need to find Matthias?"

Emil waved a dismissive hand. "Hush, that's beside the point. What else... Flute, clarinet, trombone, accordion, umm I guess I can kinda sing-"

"Wait." Berwald had an idea.

Berwald had a great idea.

And Emil knew exactly what it was. "Oh no. No, no, no. You're not thinking what I think you're thinking."

"What d'you think I'm thinking?" Ber asked him, a self-satisfied smirk playing at his lips.

Oh, this was bad.

"Look, bro, Lukas is already the lead singer. We can't just waltz in and tell him he's gotta play guitar instead because his adorable little brother is gonna sing." His sneer when saying 'adorable little brother' kind of made Berwald want to laugh, but that wouldn't help his argument, so instead, he said:

"Can he play guitar?"

Emil could feel his will to fight slowly crumbling, which wasn't good because Lukas was gonna hate him for this. "Yeah, but-"

"Lemme hear you sing," Berwald demanded, which was the last straw.

"Fuck no!" Emil involuntarily puffed out his chest in defiance, which looked downright silly when he was eight inches shorter than Ber. God, how did Tino manage? "I already told you it's not gonna work out!"

"Just sing," he iterated, and Emil knew he would not be swayed.

"Sing what?" he asked, defeated.

He shrugged. "A song."

"No shit, Sherlock... Fine. I've got one."

Then, reluctantly, he began to sing. It was just a simple melody, no words or difficult rhythms, but it was really beautiful nonetheless. Emil's voice was slightly lower than Luke's, and he had better pitch as well, hitting every note perfectly with increasing confidence as he lifted into the climax of the short piece.

It was powerful, moving, and shocking.

Berwald was impressed.

Emil was blushing under Berwald's judgmental glare, and once he finished, he stared at the ground. "I know. I suck."

Really? Such a stunning performance, and that was all Emil had to say? Well, two could play at that game. "No y'dont."

He looked up at Berwald's face, gazing at his impressed smirk and pale blue eyes filled with excitement in an expression that almost resembled Matthias.

"What?" Emil queried, taken aback.

"You're better than Lukas," he stated as if that was an objective truth.

However, Emil begged to differ. "But that wasn't even a fucking punk song!"

"'S okay," he insisted, tempted to roll his eyes (although that'd be a pretty sassy move for the Swede). "Let's go tell th'band."

The other boy stared at him for a moment, seeming entirely done with Ber's shit. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me."

"Nope. C'mon." He had already started walking inside, and Emil realized just how serious he was about this decision.

"Berwald!" he cried in vain as the door slammed shut.

Welp, they were screwed.

* * *

"Ivan, what are you doing here?" Arthur demanded coolly, tone ice cold with impatience, which was fair considering the fact that Ivan had just shown up in his room unannounced.

"Nothing much," he replied casually, as if he spent every Sunday lurking around the Wang-Kirkland residence trying to find ways to bother Arthur. "I just wanted to talk."

Already frustrated at his business partner, — that is, his bandmate, — Arthur's reply came through gritted teeth with clenched fists. "Why so mysterious? You're usually much more straightforward with me."

Ivan took a step back, knowing that Arthur's bite was just as harsh as his bark. "Do you remember yesterday? When we caught Emil and he escaped?"

Something lit up in the Brit's eyes, and he calmed himself just as quickly as he'd worked up to a rage. "Yes. It's okay, Ivan. I know how tricky the Bondevik boys can be."

"I let him go," Ivan replied before he could stop himself.

"What?" the other asked, eyes furrowed in confusion as if he didn't quite believe his own ears. "But why?"

Bracing himself for the worst, Ivan said, "Look, I don't think what we're doing here is right."

"Oh, like you can talk to me about what's right." Arthur rolled his eyes. "Need I remind you whose idea it was to spike the punch and sabotage Mat and Luke's relationship?"

"That was mostly their own choice though. What you wanted me to do last night was straight-up torture and blackmail. If you continue to do this, I'm afraid..." He trailed off, stifling a gulp. "I'm afraid I'll have to quit."

"Excuse me?" Arthur scoffed in disbelief. Who in their right mind had the nerve to quit on Arthur?

Ivan decided it best not to go back on what he'd said, though. He deadpanned. "You heard me."

"Oh, I definitely heard you, I just wanted to give you a chance to take it back. You can't quit; you're our fucking lead guitarist!" He was starting to sound hysterical, as if the very idea of being betrayed was so nonsensical it could drive him mad.

"Then perhaps you should listen to what I'm saying," Ivan shot back, hoping to hell Arthur had the brain to follow someone else's orders for once in his pathetic life. "Either we stop playing dirty, or we stop playing altogether."

His eyes widened in shock as he realized just how serious Ivan was. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

Arthur let out an infuriated and undignified screech, then, letting his anger speak for him, said, "Fine then. Go ahead and quit. We don't need you, anyway!"

"Okay."

Then Ivan left, not even looking back on Arthur as he exited the house.

And for the first time in years, Arthur cried.

* * *

"He's gonna what?" Lukas asked, because he certainly hadn't heard that correctly.

"He's g'nna sing," Berwald repeated as Emil's face flushed bright red.

Clearly, this had to be a joke... Right? Either way, Lukas treated it as such, replying, "Alright, that's enough of this bullshit. What were you actually planning on doing?"

"Well, we were kinda stumped," Emil explained, "so Ber asked me to sing for him."

"That actually sounds sort of cute of you," Lukas mumbled before he could stop himself.

And although he really didn't like being called cute, Emil perked up at the possibility that this could actually work out. "So you're okay with this?"

"Hell no," Lukas shot back almost too quickly, light smile pursing into a frown. "You don't have the chops for it."

Oh no he didn't. Suddenly more than willing to defend himself, Emil stood up. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means," his brother hissed pointedly, "that even if you do have a decent voice, you don't know how to sing punk, and you don't know how to perform anyway."

"Oh? So you think you're better than me?"

"Maybe I do," Luke sassed, ever the more pretentious of the two.

"Well I guess you don't need me in your stupid band then!" Emil yelled, and suddenly Luke realized the weight of his words.

"Fuck, Emil!" he cried. "You know that's not what I meant!"

"Then would you quit being such an asshole?" Emil yelled, and the slight waver of his voice made Lukas wonder if he wasn't about to cry.

Which... Probably wasn't good, seeing as Luke was his guardian and he was supposed to look out for him. "I'm sorry," he said, finally calming down a bit. "I didn't mean to talk to you like that. I just... I guess it could work, but we're gonna have to rehearse whenever we have the time. And you might have to cancel some of those little dates you go on with Leon."

Emil's anger seemed to dissipate for the most part as he realized that his brother didn't have any mal intent. There was, however, one thing that still bothered him. "Luke, for the last time, I'm not-"

"Yeah, whatever," Lukas remarked dismissively. "That's beside the point. You need practice. Hell, I might even have to..." He cringed at the very idea that had just popped into his head, but he couldn't stop himself from saying it: "I might even have to give you voice lessons."

His brother snorted. "I'll believe it when I see it. I'm okay with putting in effort, so long as everyone's chill with this. Any objections?"

Silence.

"Sweet. Now, onto the next order of business: Tino's plan."

* * *

"What was the first thing on Tino's list?" Luke asked Mat as he pushed their shopping cart. They were strolling aimlessly down the frozen aisle, but Luke was kind of at a loss as to why.

Matthias squinted at the list, having a bit of trouble reading even with the glasses – he'd probably need a new prescription soon. "Eggs."

He stopped the cart, partially because the eggs were right next to him, and partially because there was no way Mat had read that correctly. "Really? He wasn't planning on egging the Kirkland's house, was he?"

"No, I can't see him doing something like that. It'd be more trouble than it's worth..." He trailed off, squinting at the list. He took off his glasses for a moment, rubbed his eyes, and squinted at it again. "This list though..."

"What's so funny about the list?" Luke abandoned the empty cart behind Mat, craning his neck to try to read over his shoulder.

Mat just turned and handed him the list. "Here, read it for yourself."

"Alright... Eggs, flour, sugar..." Wait, what? "What the fuck? Is he trying to bake them a cake?" Had Tino somehow managed to mix up his mother's shopping list with their own?

"See?" Matthias exclaimed. "I'm not crazy!"

"These better be some fucking vengeful brownies, if I'm paying for them," Luke muttered under his breath, but then he laid his eyes on the last item on the list...

Oh, this was glorious.

The other boy noticed Luke's sudden shift in mood and raised an eyebrow. "Why are you smiling?"

"You'll see," he promised. "Let's just keep shopping."

* * *

"Y'know," Mat cooed a few minutes later, "you still owe me a kiss."

Lukas rolled his eyes, not really wanting to play along with the nerd's silly antics. But, since Matthias was his best friend(?), he humored him nonetheless. "I still what?"

Matthias stood in front of the cart, effectively stopping Luke in his tracks, and smirked devilishly. "You left me hanging back at the dance." He winked flirtatiously, and Luke had to admit looked sort of hot.

Well, objectively speaking. He of course had no interest in kissing that loser, admitted crushes be damned.

"Mat, I'm not gonna kiss you," he groaned, already weary of this stupid conversation. They had a mission, and at this rate, they were never going to find the flour. "We're not dating."

"It doesn't have to be romantic," he whined. "I just kinda... Wanna kiss... Y'know, as bros."

Finally managing to get the Dane away from the cart, he continued to push it down the aisle. "Okay, now you're just being desperate."

Then Matthias stared at the ground dejectedly, as if Luke had wronged him somehow. "Never mind then. Let's just get the rest of our stuff."

So they continued, Lukas trying to ignore his definitely-not-a-boyfriend as Matthias followed silently at his side, inadvertently shooting Lukas his best puppy dog eyes.

It took about thirty seconds for Lukas' resolve to wear down completely. "Stop that," he finally demanded.

"Stop what?" Mat asked impatiently. He'd already been rejected; what else did Lukas want from him?

"Pouting. You look too cute like that. It's irritating." Wait, had he really just said that aloud?

Shit.

"Well it's your fault for not kissing me!" Mat huffed.

"Fucking fine then!" And, without thinking about any possible consequences or reasons why this was a very, very bad idea, he grabbed Mat's face and pulled him into a sloppy, passionate kiss.

It started out chaste, neither quite sure what was going on, simply enjoying the feeling of finally (finally!) being able to feel each other's touch, the beautiful sensation of Mat's smooth lips on Luke's rough and chapped ones, heatedly moving impossibly closer until Luke slipped his tongue inside Mat's mouth, needing more and more of this glorious, wondrous feeling that he never ever wanted to end-

"Matthias?!" cried a shrill, mortified voice. "_Hvad fanden?_"

And, just as quickly as they'd started making out, they pulled apart, blushing deeply and hanging their heads in shame.

Lukas didn't know exactly who was speaking, but he recognized the Danish slur, which could only mean one thing...

Matthias gulped, and slowly, lifted his head to meet the woman's gaze. "Mom?"

* * *

_"I'm all lost in the supermarket_  
_I can no longer shop happily_  
_I came in here for that special offer_  
_A guaranteed personality"_

~"Lost in the Supermarket", _London_ _Calling_, the Clash


	18. Slip Into the Tragedy

**Mutual Intelligibility: a relationship between languages or dialects in which speakers of different but related varieties can readily understand each other without intentional study or special effort. For example, Danish, Norwegian, and Swedish are mutually intelligible languages.**

* * *

"Matthias?" a shrill, familiar voice cried in Danish just as Mat's dream came true. "What the fuck?"

Then, like glass, everything that had led up to this beautiful moment shattered. He pulled away from Luke just as reality came crashing down on his shoulders and he realized just how much trouble he was actually in.

"Mom?" he asked, still not quite believing his own ears, still convinced that his eyes had to be lying to him. Why would she be here, at the supermarket, walking down the exact lane in which he and Luke were finally, gloriously sucking face?

But she was still there, gaping and scowling in an expression that didn't really fit naturally on anyone's face (except possibly Emil's). "You... What are you doing?"

That was a very good question, actually. What exactly _was_ he doing making out with his best friend at a neighborhood grocery store, anyway? Suddenly, he failed to see any reason why that would've been a good idea. "I uhh... I can explain?"

"Oh, you better explain," Ms. Andersen replied, hands on her hips and handbag swinging violently around her arm as if it too were angry at him. Her lips were pulled taut into a straight white line, and it seemed that at any minute she might lose her cool entirely, releasing unimaginable rage and terror upon both punk and nerd.

In short, Mat was screwed.

But he had said he would explain, and since 'hormones' probably wouldn't pass as a reasonable explanation, he decided for the only method he had left: let his mouth do the talking for him. "Well, you see, this is Lukas. and we were just-"

"You mean this is the boy you've been hanging out with?" she yelled once more, speaking still in Danish as if it were their secret language. "This piece of shit?"

Lukas let out a bored sigh, rolling his eyes as he silently gestured for Mat to cease his flimsy excuses. Then, sharp-tongued and venomous as ever, he switched into fluent Norwegian and hissed, "I can speak Danish. I understand every word you're saying, so if you were hoping to insult me behind my back, you'll need to try a bit harder than that."

She looked taken aback for a moment, then returned fire full-force. "You're dating a Swede? Dear god, what fresh hell is this?"

Lukas stifled the smirk that was threatening to show on his face, tightening his lip in false offense. "Excuse you, I'm from Norway."

Mat sighed. Leave it to Luke to come up with the most ineffably useless argument... Well, he supposed it was up to him now. "We're not dating! We were just, uh..."

And really, he couldn't come up with a good word for their relationship. As strict as their 'no homo' policy had been these past few weeks, the evidence of their mutual romantic attraction was undeniable, and if Mat was being honest with himself, that bro kiss was way too sexually charged to be anything platonic.

"I told you it was a bad idea to kiss in a supermarket, stupid," Luke groaned, even though he was technically the one who'd kissed Mat. "But no, you didn't believe me."

"Did he just call you stupid?" His mother asked, somehow offended at a remark aimed to lower his own self-confidence (not like she ever spoke like that to him, oh certainly not).

"You called me a piece of shit," Luke fired back, defiance evident in the squaring of his shoulders and the clenching of his fists and jaw.

"And a Swede," Mat added, just to fuel the fire that was his friend- boyfriend? Bro? Future husband? Who even knew anymore?

Except, somehow, Matthias' remark had almost the exact opposite effect, snapping him out of his rage and bringing him back to his typical, more thoughtful self. "Yes, and a Swede. Actually, I'd probably rather be a piece of shit than a Swede."

Ooh, smart move. If there was one thing Danes and Norwegians could agree upon, it was that the Swedes were deserving of mockery.

Ah, so now he was taking the diplomatic route? Mat could work with that.

"Can't argue with you there," he agreed. "See, Mom? He's not so bad! If you don't insult him, he won't insult me." He tossed his arm around Luke's shoulder and offered his mother the most fake and cheesy grin he could muster.

Ms. Andersen was unimpressed. "Don't think you're off the hook. We're going home."

Mat's whole figure visibly slumped, and he withdrew his arm from Luke's shoulder. "Now?"

She nodded stiffly, arms crossed. She was tapping her foot, and the light but sharp 'clack-clack-clack' of her pumps against the laminated tile was impatient and impossible to ignore. "Now."

"But Mom-" he whined, switching suddenly to English in his desperation, and anyone else at the store might have suspected such a phrase with such a tone to come from a seven year-old who was denied access to the candy aisle.

"No buts!" She grabbed his hand and started to lead him out of the store. "Come on!"

* * *

"Hello, yes, Ivan?" Emil asked, phone pressed to his ear. Mat and Luke had taken long enough that the remaining three members had decided to go ahead and move ahead to the next phase of the plan preemptively. "Bro, what's up?"

There was a pause, then he smirked and said, "Nice, nice. Getting ready for the concert?"

But quickly his smile fell as he heard the response on the other end. "Wait, what? You're kidding... Oh, well that's too bad. Are you and Arthur on bad terms?"

"Oh, okay. I'm sorry." He sighed dejectedly, then continued. "Well, I just called to check in. Hope you're having a good evening. See you around." He hung up and turned his attention toward Tino and Berwald.

"What is it?" Ber asked, for once the first to speak up.

Emil shrugged his shoulders, almost ready to give up entirely. "Ivan quit. He felt like what Arthur and the Allies were doing wasn't right, and Arthur wouldn't change his ways, so he walked out on them."

"Oh, I see," Tino replied, voice shod with uncharacteristic snark and sarcasm. "Glad you said we could trust him."

"Hey, you can't blame him for quitting," Emil shot back, barely containing his anger. Was it really so hard for Tino to just trust him? "You know you'd do the same exact thing."

Luckily, Berwald stepped in before a fight could break out (which was good because Emil wouldn't stand a chance against Tino in a fight). "What're we s'posed t'do now?" he asked calmly in an attempt to restore the previous train of thought...

Which failed epically, because at that exact moment, Lukas angrily thrust open the door and stomped inside, shouting, "Fucking fuck my fucking ass!" as he removed his knee-high Doc Martins and entered the living room, grocery bags abandoned by the door.

"Umm..." Emil looked at Luke like he was slightly insane and a little bit creepy. "Can I pass?"

Because when your brother barges into the house, asking you to fuck him in the ass, you're obviously meant to take it literally. Way to go, Emil.

"I..." Luke's face went bright red from both embarrassment and pure, uncontrollable rage. "Screw you!"

"What's wrong, Luke?" Tino asked, suddenly completely calm (though a bit intimidated).

"You're late," Berwald said flatly, and though he didn't mean it that way, his words sounded critical of Lukas.

"I know I'm late, you piece of shit," he spat, brow still furrowed into a scowl. He refused to sit, fully enjoying the dominance being taller than everyone else brought him. "Matthias' mom caught us kissing, and she sent Mat home. I had to finish shopping by myself, and I swear to god, if I have to find another drummer..."

Then he realized exactly how much he'd given away and faltered slightly, shoulders relaxing involuntarily.

"Matthias' mom was at the supermarket?" Tino queried, as if that was the weirdest thing that had happened that day.

But before Luke could respond that yes, in fact his mother was at the store, Emil gave an incredulous cry: "You two... Kissed?!"

Well, this was a complete disaster. "I'd prefer not to talk about it." Then, hoping to change the topic to something on a lighter note, he asked, "How's the plan with Ivan going?"

"Pretty shitty, if you ask me,"

Tino remarked with a pointed glare in Emil's direction. "The guy quit the Allies; we can't use him."

How Lukas managed to restrain the sudden, overwhelming desire to punch a wall was a mystery. "Lovely," he snarled through gritted teeth. "Any other good news I should hear?"

Then, for once, there was complete silence.

"Good. Now..." He turned to Emil, glaring furiously (which, added to Tino's scowl and Berwald's resting death stare, was sort of overwhelming). "What's your fucking plan?"

So, Emil switched to Plan B. "Leon."

Luke was unimpressed. "That's not what I meant by fucking plan."

Then Emil's face contorted into an expression that was equal parts embarrassed, offended, and frustrated. "That's not what I meant by Leon! We're not a couple, for the last time! C'mon, Lukas, he's Yao's brother, and Arthur's step-brother. Neither of them know that we hang out. I'm sure he could find a way to get a cake to Arthur."

Lukas' eyes lit up in realization, and with his pride somewhat wounded, he finally stuttered out, "Oh... That's... Actually really smart. Let's go with that."

* * *

"You owe me an explanation," Ms. Andersen said coldly from across the table, because apparently she'd thought this conversation would be best held in the kitchen. It sort of gave off a business-like feel, and it made Mat slightly uncomfortable.

Nevertheless, he was still fuming, so he rolled his eyes and grumbled, "I don't think I owe you anything."

"I'm your mother," she pointed out, tone as unforgiving as ever. "You owe me your life. Explain."

And, since there was no way in hell that Mat would ever sway her stance on the matter, he sighed in resignation, eyes glued to the floor to prevent wavering under his mother's frosty glare. "There's not much to explain, really. We wanted to kiss, so we kissed."

She laughed without humor, and Matthias knew he was screwed – she only laughed like that when she was enraged enough to become hysterical. "Oh, is that what happened the other week as well? You wanted to have sex, so you had sex?"

Well, yes, actually, but that probably didn't help his case.

What was that American law he'd learned this year in his history? About the right to remain silent?

Fifth amendment. Right. That would've been super helpful in court, but sadly, this was his mother speaking.

Finally, he settled on an ambiguous response. "Is it really any of your business?"

"Yes, in fact it is," she barked, standing up, hands flying to the table in barely-contained rage.

Mat chanced a glance upward, and as their eyes met, his mother's gaze softened a bit.

Her arms relaxed, hanging limply at her side. "Mat, I'm just confused. You always told me you wanted to wait for marriage because it would be romantic. And since when are you into men?"

"Okay," he scoffed, offended, "we've never even talked about sexuality, so you wouldn't've known either way. Why do you care if I like boys?"

"I don't, but you could have at least told me! And you're still going behind my back to hang out with this..." She floundered for a word to describe Lukas in an accurate and efficient way, though Mat wasn't sure he wanted to hear it. "This freak!"

_It's okay, Mat. All she did was insult the love of your life. That's fine. In-laws aren't supposed to get along anyway._

"Mom," he said as calmly as he could manage, "he's not a freak. He just likes punk music."

"And gets weird haircuts and smells like tobacco and has a septum piercing, yes, I saw."

Septum piercing? That one was new. How had he not noticed?

"Fine, and if he is a rebel? If he does do things that aren't societally acceptable? Why do you even give a fuck?"

"Matthias, I'm worried about you!" she shot back, and suddenly she gripped the table with such strength that Mat wondered if she would break it. "You never tell me anything, you've been drinking, sneaking out, and doing god knows what else. Can't you just be honest with me?"

And he knew that if he were to look at her, he would have seen the look of justified fear and righteous anger on her face and faltered, so he looked at the ground and growled, "Oh my fucking god, leave me alone!"

"When you move out, you can sneak around all you'd like, but if you're living in my house, then you're living by my rules!" Ms. Andersen ranted angrily, not backing down in the slightest.

"Then maybe I should just stop living in your house!" Mat yelled before he could keep the words from leaving his mouth. Sure, that was a really touchy subject and probably the worst comeback he'd made in years, but he refused to waver at this point, too wrapped up by this argument to prevent contention.

But as much as he'd expected her to burst into tears, as unsurprising as it would be for her to trap him in an unbreakable death grip formed entirely out of pitiful words, all Ms. Andersen did was scowl and venomously reply, "Y'know what? Maybe you should! I bet you don't last a day without me!"

"Fine then!" he shouted, turning around and stomping away to his room. "I'll pack my bags!"

* * *

"Okay, Kirkland, what is it this time?" Francis sniffed as if he were too good for this band nonsense.

"Yeah, Arthur," Yao interjected. "You know I don't have time for this!"

Thoroughly irked that no one would bother listening to him unless he forced them to, Arthur rolled his eyes and shouted, "Silence! We're here for one reason, and one reason only: we're screwed."

_Oh yes, great explanation there, Kirkland. Way to go. All shall be jealous of your fantastic leadership skills._

"Screwed?" Alfred asked in concern, gently grabbing onto Arthur's hand out of habit. "But why?"

"Ivan quit," he stated bluntly, as void of emotion as he could manage – as similar to Lukas as he could manage. Lukas was always in control of himself. If he kept control, maybe he'd be more effective.

Then, for the first time in the short history of the band, everyone was completely silenced, gaping in horror at the sudden reveal.

Ivan was one of the three founding members of their band (back when they were casually called the Triple Entente), and the very idea that Ivan had just up and left was as powerful and overwhelming as a punch in the gut.

Maintaining a carefully-constructed composure, Arthur elaborated. "He decided that he didn't approve of our practices, and he decided the best solution was to leave us hanging. Now, we've only got about a week and a half until the concert, and we can't perform without our lead guitarist. We're desperate, and at this point, I'll take any ideas."

Then his boyfriend's eyes lit up like a child who had just seen their favorite toy on display, and he cried, "Oh! Oh! I know!"

"What?" Yao raised his eyebrows, slightly amused but also slightly annoyed.

"Okay, you know how I'm class president?" Alfred asked, and the combination of his shit-eating grin and his cocky posture only served to make everyone else think he was bragging.

"Yeah, yeah," Yao replied, "we all know I lost the election to you."

"Your point?" Francis added.

"The class leadership organizes all the events for our school," Al explained, "and there's another meeting tomorrow. If I can make the case that we need to postpone the concert, we'll have more time."

"That's..." Arthur started to complain, but then he realized he had no good argument. In fact, the idea sounded pretty good for Alfred. "Actually, that's brilliant. Do you think you can do it?"

Yao interrupted. "Umm, do you remember who the treasurer is?"

"Yeah, 'course I do," Alfred shot back, confident in his intelligence. "It's Berwald Oxenstier- oh."

"'Oh' is right," Yao returned with a glare. "How are we supposed to get that passed without a member if the Nordic Five noticing?"

"Well, to be honest," Francis returned smugly, "I don't think they'll complain. Lukas' beloved baby brother broke his finger – I'd bet they need more time as well. And that only helps our argument. If two of the five bands performing have someone down for the count, we don't have a full event."

It was comments such as those that reminded Arthur why he had let Francis stay in the band – if nothing else, he was decisive. "I hate to say this, but Francis is right."

And finally Yao relented. "I agree."

"Sweet!" Alfred said just a bit too loudly for everyone else's tastes. "Let's do it!"

* * *

The golden pound cake resting on the counter in the looked delicious, but Leon still wrinkled his nose in disgust as Emil presented his band's culinary masterpiece. "Okay, I get that you're not, like, the hippest person on the planet, but really, you're coming to my house so we can decorate a cake? Who do you think we are? PTA moms?"

Emil wasn't quite sure whether he should laugh at or be angered by that remark, so he settled for a calm and collected response. "It's better than you think, I promise. This isn't your average cake."

"It looks pretty average to me," Leon replied, amazing Emil once again with his brilliant astuteness.

Why yes, in fact it did look like a normal cake. Emil was certain that the amount of brain power needed to realize that would require nothing short of sheer genius.

"And it tastes pretty average, too," he replied dryly, "but you probably don't wanna eat it."

Then his eyes lit up and his brow furrowed, curiosity piqued, and he relented. "Fine, you've got me interested. What's so cool about it?"

Emil took off his ironically unfashionable scarf, set it in the corner, and rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt. He turned back to Leon with his hands on his hips, remarking, "I'll tell you if you help me frost it."

"Alright, alright. I think Yao's got some frosting hidden somewhere around here..." He rummaged around in the fridge (which wasn't nearly so classy as Berwald's) until he found a Tupperware container filled with delicious, homemade buttercream frosting. "Okay, what is this cake supposed to be?"

His fellow dude-bro smiled darkly, resembling nothing so much as a villain in a children's movie. "Revenge. If you eat a slice of this, you'll puke your guts out."

"Sounds fun," Leon replied, opening the container of frosting and retrieving a butter knife from a random drawer."Who's it for?"

"Arthur," Emil said casually as he stuck his finger in the tub of frosting and stole a bit for himself.

But Leon paid no mind, far too distracted by the notion of Arthur vomiting due to their nefarious endeavors. "Oh my god. Can I watch him eat it?"

He shrugged. "If you really want to. That's why I needed you: so you can make sure he gets it."

"Sweet." Then he began spreading the frosting on the cake – an act he was clearly familiar with, no matter how much he loved dissing cake decorating.

They were silent for a couple minutes, but about three-fourths of the way in, Leon's brow furrowed, and he asked, "So, I get that like, this is hilarious, but what's the point?"

"Well, if Arthur thinks he's sick, he's not gonna rehearse, is he?" Emil pointed out from where he was standing, casually leaning on the counter as he watched Leon do all the work (not that Leon had a problem with that).

Leon stopped for a minute and stared up at Emil in amazement. "You're fucking evil."

"I know," he said, completely serious and pretentious as all hell. "So, you're cool with that?"

It took a moment for Leon to respond, but finally, not even looking up from the cake, he said, "Totally, on one condition."

"Condition? What condition?" Okay, this suddenly didn't sound so good.

"I'll only tell you," he explained smugly, "if I get to tell you all about the date Michelle and I went on last night."

Then Emil's nose wrinkled in disgust. "Ewww, romance."

Leon had only been with Michelle for a few weeks, and Emil still wasn't used to the idea of being the third wheel, in part because Leon was really his entire social life (well, other than the band).

"Or I could just throw out the cake," Leon added, pausing his decorating to mane his threat more believable.

But even with that obvious bluff, Emil relented. "Fine, fine. Tell me all about your amazing girlfriend."

* * *

Lukas had just barely calmed down, trying to unwind by doing all the homework he'd been procrastinating until Sunday evening and eating leftovers with some coffee, when suddenly the front door slammed shut.

"Emil?" His brother had left almost two hours ago, and he had been expecting him back any minute. He walked over to the door, thinking he'd see his kid brother, and maybe they'd eat dinner and then he'd give Emil a voice lesson or something.

Except Emil wasn't there; rather, he was met by a boy with bright blue eyes and crazy, blond hair.

But even though Luke knew exactly who it was, he was put off by his scowl and his clenched fists. He wore a backpack, as well as a suspiciously large duffel bag. "Matthias? What the fuck are you doing here? I thought you'd be grounded... And why all the bags?"

He dropped both the bags and let out a sigh, for once not eager to speak. "I got mad at my mom, and I told her I wanted to leave."

"So you actually did it?" he demanded far more harshly than he'd intended. "Oh god, Mat..."

"Yeah, I did. And now I don't fucking know what to do. I'm... I just made myself fucking homeless!" And suddenly, he broke down, grabbing Luke and sobbing into his shirt.

At a loss of what to do, Lukas wrapped his arms around Mat and rubbed soothing circles into his back in a vain attempt to calm him down. "Mat, Mat, Matthias..." But when that didn't work, he went for a more logical approach: "Look, it's okay. You'll be alright. We've got a spare room, you can sleep here as long as you'd like."

"I can't live here!" he yelled, distressed. "You're probably having a hard enough time as it is-"

"Matthias, it's fine," he cooed, and despite the piercings and heavy eye makeup, the look on his face showed nothing but deep care and concern, and Mat almost wished his mother could see Luke now. "You can help out, right?"

He nodded, tears subsiding a bit. "Yeah."

Then Luke wiped the tear from his face, slowly leading him into the kitchen. "And it's not like you have anywhere else to go, right?"

He pulled out a chair, and Mat sat down in it. "No."

Lukas massaged his shoulders and continued to soothe him. "It's not like this is forever. We just need to give you and the bitch some time to calm down, and you'll both be fine, right?"

Finally, he stopped crying entirely, and he rasped an affirmative, "Yeah."

"See? It'll be fine." He stepped back, walking over to the refrigerator. "Do you want some dinner?"

Mat let out a groan. "Now you're giving me food, too? Luke, this is too much, I can't-"

"Alright, never mind," he interjected, hands on his hips. "No choice anymore, you're eating dinner. For now, just make yourself comfortable, okay?"

And, noting that Lukas would likely not be swayed, he replied, "Okay."

"Good. Oh, and Mat?"

He looked up to meet his eyes."What?"

"I love you," he stated plainly, though the emotion behind the words was crystal clear to Mat.

Matthias pinked, averting his gaze. "I love you too."

"I know."

* * *

_"Pull the plug._

_But I'd like to learn your name._

_And holding on._

_Well I hope you do the same._

_Aw sugar._

_Slip into the tragedy you've spun this chamber dry."_

~ "The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You",_ Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge_, My Chemical Romance


	19. Cruelest Dream, Reality

**Screaming: an extended vocal technique that is mostly popular in "aggressive" styles of music, including many subgenres of heavy metal, punk rock, and industrial. Intensity, pitch, and characteristics vary from vocalist to vocalist.**

* * *

Emil flipped on the lights and pulled the covers off of Matthias at seven sharp on Monday. "Mat, wake up."

"Huh?" He fumbled around, still groggy from sleep, but now it was also bright and he was cold and he didn't know where his glasses were.

"C'mon, ya lazy piece of shit," Emil grumbled, hands on his hips, reminding Mat of nothing so much as his mother nagging at him. "You wanna eat or not?"

He pictured Ms. Andersen, hands on her own hips, scowling as she furiously shouted, _"If you're living in my house, then you're living by my rules!"_

Matthias wasn't ready for this shit yet. He shook his head, and collapsed back onto the bed, mumbling, "Wanna go back to sleep."

"Nah bro, it's Monday! We have school!"

"Can I not go today? I'm not in the mood." His tone was scarily dejected, especially for Matthias, and there was no way the Dane could have been joking.

"I..." Emil knew he couldn't possibly force the Mat to go to school in this state. "I guess. Just... Feel better soon, I guess." He gently rested the covers back on top of him.

"Thanks, Emil."

"No problem," he said as he turned off the lights and left.

Lukas later advised him to just let Mat be – he was still probably down about his mom, and he shouldn't be forced to go to school.

By the third day, he was showing up to school, but only midway through the day, and he refused to talk to anyone except (strangely) Gilbert, who seemed to console him somewhat.

Luke left it alone.

If he wouldn't talk to him, then the punk wasn't gonna force him.

* * *

"Hey, Arthur! Guess what I just got approved?" Alfred asked his boyfriend as he stood on his doorstep, looking excited as kid on Christmas or a Tumblrite on Halloween.

"What?" Arthur replied, somewhat intrigued in spite of the fact that it was probably just another super hero movie coming out that Al wanted to take him to (not that he minded that so much, he just didn't get as worked up about it as his boyfriend).

Barely able to contain his exultations, he simply shoved a flyer in Arthur's face. "Read this."

"Alright..."

"Dear parent slash guardian," he began, "We regret to inform you that the Battle of the Bands concert, scheduled for 6:30-9:00 PM on Saturday, February 28, has been postponed due to several issues that have arisen among the bands therein. The new working date for this event is Saturday, March 14, at the same place and time. We apologize for any inconvenience this has caused.

Thank you, Aldrich Beilschmidt, principal bloody hell I love you thank you!" He wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

After they broke apart, Alfred let out an awkward laugh. "It wasn't really any trouble. He didn't even put up a fight once I made a deal with Gilbert. He gave us two extra weeks, too!"

But as much as Arthur wanted to continue his praise of his beloved, a sudden and drastic wave of nausea overtook him. "Holy... Holy... Oh god, I feel sick."

"What? It's not that shocking, is it?" Alfred's brow furrowed in concern.

"No, like, I feel like I'm gonna, holy shit!" He turned around to run to the bathroom...

Then he puked.

* * *

"Barfing his brains out? That bad?" Emil asked as if he were concerned, though his vicious smirk and gleaming eyes conveyed nothing but mischief. "Oh my god, I almost feel sorry for him..."

Leon gave his snarky response, then Emil continued to grin as he retorted, "Key word: almost."

Then his friend once again said that he would have to cut the conversation short for the sake of his so-called 'girlfriend' that Emil was quickly losing patience with.

"Alright," he replied, smile now some what forced as his shoulders slumped. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?... Bye, Leon."

He hung up, and Lukas cleared his throat (which caused Emil to jump, not aware of his brother's presence in the living room). "Done talking with your boyfriend?" he quipped as if the line was fresh and new and witty and Emil was tired of this shit.

Emil might have told him about Leon and Michelle had the two not been trying to keep their relationship a secret. But since he'd made a bro-pact with Leon, and no self-respecting bro could break a bro-pact in good conscience, he replied with the typical banter.

"He's not my boyfr-!"

"Spare me." Luke rolled his eyes ever so pretentiously, almost like be was too high and mighty for such immature endeavors as, say, refusing to admit obvious mutual attraction to his best friend.

Oh, the hypocrisy!

"Anyway," his _clearly more mature_ older brother continued, "you still need to sing for me."

Emil cringed. "Oh god, must I?"

Then Lukas made that 'take no shit' face that he only made when Emil was in trouble. "You'd better, if you were planning on singing at the concert. Why don't you try 'The Kids Aren't Alright'?"

"Ew, by Fall Out Boy?" Such bands were considered pop trash in the Bondevik household.

"No," he corrected, losing patience, "by The Offspring. C'mon, Emil, I thought you were better than that."

Oh. That made more sense.

The Offspring wasn't exactly hardcore punk a la Bad Brains or Fugazi, but they definitely had punk roots. Not only that, but the range was just about perfect for Emil's voice – Lukas had clearly put some thought into this.

"Okay," he decided. "I'll try."

He cleared his throat, recalled the first note, and began to sing with well-trained perfect pitch. He was awesome.

Well, sort of.

It was only about two lines in that Lukas stopped him.

"Already?" Emil scoffed.

Luke didn't falter. "It's punk, honey. Put some emotion behind it."

Grimacing, Emil filed that piece of constructive criticism, and started over.

And again, he only got two lines in.

Not that kind of emotion," the punk murmured through gritted teeth. "You're too worried about sounding good; pay more attention to what you're saying."

He sighed. "Luke, I can't sound good without trying like you can. My only settings are Brendon Urie and Bob Dylan."

Then there was his opera voice, but he'd rather die than show that to Lukas.

"Be Bob Dylan then, for fuck's sake," Luke replied. "It doesn't have to sound pretty. And Dylan had some amazing lyrics, anyway."

"It might help if I wasn't trying to cover a song," Emil shot back. "C'mon, Luke, I'm one of the head writers. How do you think I can't up with the lyrics?"

"You... Have a point," he relented. "Sony whatever then."

"Having somehow managed to actually win an argument against Lukas, Emil gave a cocky smile and began to sing.

It wasn't nearly so polished as Lukas' singing, not was it the correct genre yet, but he had the right idea.

"Okay," he finally said, "that was better. Now scream."

His brother raised an eyebrow. "What, but I don't know-"

"Don't care. Just scream."

So he screamed. "AAAAAAAAAAAA- okay I can't do this fucking shit."

Luke shrugged. "Didn't sound so bad to me."

Emil placed a gentle hand on his own throat, imagining what it would be like to scream for an entire concert. "What if I damage my voice?"

Resting an awkward hand on his shoulder, Lukas smirked wryly. "Have you ever listened closely to how I yell in songs? I'm not loud. You can be quiet as you'd like, so long as the attitude's there. Pretend you're cursing someone out in a library."

Then Emil's eyes lit up in realization. "Oh, so like..."

He sang again, this time more quietly, but with more rage and emotion and screaming (albeit quiet screaming). It was exactly the opposite if everything any classical voice instructor would tell him to do, and it felt exhilarating.

Emil decided he liked it.

* * *

"Hey Emil," Luke called later that evening as he jogged up the stairs and into his brother's room. "Have you seen Mat?"

Emil looked up at him from his spot on the bed, where he was languidly browsing the internet in his pajamas. "No, I haven't seen him since this morning. Why do you ask?"

"I haven't seen him either. I'm starting to get worried..." He trailed off, glancing at the clock on Emil's desk. "Where is he? It's almost eleven."

"Did he move back in with his mom?" his brother asked, seeming almost disappointed.

Luke frowned. "All his stuff's still here."

"Huh." Well, there went that theory. Emil stood, stretching lazily before putting on a pair of shockingly dorky slippers. "Should we go look for him?"

Stealing another anxious look at the clock, he bit his lip and said, "Don't know if he wants us to look for him. He was really distant yesterday, and I'm worried that he's gonna do something stupid."

"Stupid? Like what?"

"I don't know, I just..." He slumped down on the bed, staring dejectedly at the ceiling. "I have a bad feeling about this."

Then, for reasons that escaped Lukas, Emil smirked. "Luke, do you remember all the shit you did the first few months after Dad left?"

"Well, not very well..." he admitted, looking back at Emil and raising an eyebrow, confounded by the sudden change in topic.

"Probably because you were drunk off your ass the entire time," Emil shot back, sarcastic smile waning as he struggled to keep his banter light and joking. "Just give him some time – he'll be back soon, and he's not nearly as reckless as you are."

Lukas sighed. "I guess you're right. I'm being paranoid."

* * *

It was nearly an hour later that Matthias opened the door with a loud slam, staggering into the kitchen without so much as shutting the door or taking his shoes off.

"Matthias!" Lukas yelled as he darted down the stairs and into the kitchen, standing just inches away and staring up at him through eyes ringed with dark and smudged eyeliner as he caught his breath. "Where the fuck were you?"

Suddenly, Mat felt a bit woozy, and he leaned on the kitchen table to keep his balance. "Party."

"A party?" he shot back, raising an eyebrow. "Wait, you mean the one at the Beilschmidt's house where everyone was planning on getting shitfaced drunk?"

Mat nodded. "That's th'one."

Then Luke drew closer, frowning as he stated, "So you're drunk."

"No shit," the other spat, trying to look defiant, but not quite pulling it off with his wobbly stance and fuzzy gaze.

"But why? I mean, I know you're into social drinking, but you tend not to get so drunk that you can't even walk straight."

"Luke, you're so funny! I'm not even that drunk! I only had like..." He trailed off, counting on his fingers. "Uh, six shots? I think?"

Was six a big number? He'd forgotten. It didn't seem that big, right?

"Ah, only six shots. I see," he raised his eyebrows and nodded sarcastically. "Totally not drunk. Here, let's get you to your bed." He grabbed Mat's arms and gently started leading him to the spare bedroom.

But Matthias pulled away, offended that Luke thought he was too inebriated to walk up the stairs and down the hall – he'd gotten home just fine (with a ride from Ludwig), right? "Oh my god Lukas I can walk just fine by myself I don't need you t'lead me down-" He hit the floor.

"See?" Lukas drawled as he pulled Mat back up and continued to lead him slowly up the stairs. "You can barely make your way around the house."

"Yeah, yeah." He felt a bit sick to his stomach, but that was probably just from the embarrassment because he totally wasn't as drunk as Lukas claimed.

"Mat, this isn't healthy. You can't make a habit of getting drunk whenever you feel sad."

"Ah, shaddup!" Mat retorted, unwilling to hear such remarks when he was so tired and feeling a little sick.

"Sorry, but no, I won't shut up," the other shot back. "You were depressed and angry and bitter, and you wanted to drink your feelings away. There are better ways to do this."

Mat stopped them in the hallway, eyes narrowing. "I don't like where this conversation's going."

"What do you mean-"

Then Mat kissed him, open-mouthed and desperate for a distraction. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

Lukas didn't even close his eyes; rather, he wrinkled his nose in disgust and pulled away. "Ugh, you taste like alcohol. Gross."

"That's because I've been drinking," Mat restated, smiling lazily and meeting Luke's stare with a half-lidded gaze.

"Oh really? I couldn't tell."

"See?" the other replied, seeming confident in himself. "I can hold my alcohol."

Lukas gave an undignified huff and (much to Mat's surprise) actually pouted. "I was being sarcastic. Matthias, why won't you just tell me why you've been so bothered?"

"Don't wanna talk about it."

"That much I gathered. Is it your mom? Is it me? What's wrong?"

"Fuck it!" he cried suddenly, resolve breaking easily in spite of every flimsy distraction and weak barrier he'd built up over the night. "Of course I've been avoiding you all night! You always see right through me! Can't you just leave me alone for once?"

He paused, then let out a resigned sigh. "Why can't I do anything right? I'm not good enough for you, for the band, for my classes... Even my mom... And I can't even bring myself to get out of bed before noon. Might as well drink myself dead!" He grabbed Lukas by the waist and pulled him in for a hug as he began to sob.

"Matthias, don't bring yourself down like that," Lukas cooed as he rubbed the other's back. "You're doing great, you're just having a hard time right now. I would be too, if my mom was that much of a bitch."

"Then why won't ya be with me?" Mat asked. "Am I not good enough to be your boyfriend?"

"I love you, Matthias," Lukas replied, trying his best to sound sincere as he grasped him more tightly. "I love you, I love you, I love you. It's just hard for me to commit, okay?"

"Why th' fuck? I don't get it!"

Lukas glared at him as sternly as he could. "Because my last boyfriend dumped me and then set out to make sure my life was a living hell. And even though I know you'd never do that to me-"

"Ya don't trust me?" Matthias interrupted, voice quivering as tears threatened to be shed once more.

"Okay, we shouldn't be having this conversation while you're intoxicated," Lukas decided wisely, finally managing to get Mat into the room and rest him on the bed. "I love you, and I'll go out with you for real, alright? We just need to talk first."

"Okay." Then his stomach churned and he could feel the bile threatening to climb his throat.

Shit.

"Mat, are you okay?"

"Shit fuck..." He staggered as best he could down to the bathroom, just managing to lean over the toilet before he puked.

"Are you alright?" Lukas asked out of habit as he followed Mat in and turned the faucet on to clean him up.

"Yeah, I think so," he croaked as he washed his face, well enough to at least clean himself.

After he'd finished, Lukas led Mat back to the room, saying, "We should probably sleep."

"I guess," Mat replied as he collapsed onto the bed. "Night, Lukas."

"Night, Mat."

* * *

_"What the hell is going on?_

_The cruelest dream, reality"_

~ "The Kids Aren't Alright", _Americana_, The Offspring


	20. Some Call it Slums

** Acetylsalicylic Acid: a salicylate medication, often used to treat pain, fever, and inflammation.**

* * *

Luckily, the next day was a Saturday, so Matthias could sleep in as long as he pleased.

By the time Lukas heard the door to the guest room open, it was already almost noon.

As Mat groggily staggered down the stairs, Luke fetched a cup and filled it with water, putting it on the table alongside some eggs and toast he'd made earlier.

Though it seemed like Matthias was grateful, all he could muster was, "ughhh..." before he gulped down the water and gently rested his head on the table, pushing away his breakfast.

"Hangover?" he asked, smiling gently as if amused.

Mat let out a pained groan, head throbbing at the sound of the punk's voice. "Not so loud."

"I'm practically whispering," he shot back haughtily, but he lowered his voice anyway. "Want an aspirin?" He walked toward the cabinets in the corner of the room where he kept all the medicine.

"Yes, please," he replied pitifully as Lukas refilled his water and gave him some pills to ease his headache.

Matthias swallowed them down, then rested his head on the table as he waited for the painkillers to start working.

In the meantime, Luke sat down next to him, running a languid hand through Mat's hair. "Are you feeling any better? You kinda melted down last night."

He yawned in response. "God, last night's really fuzzy in my head. Probably..." He trailed off, already shaky confidence wavering further. "I dunno."

The quiver in Matthias' voice broke Lukas' heart a little, but he didn't show it in his voice as he confidently remarked, "It's okay to not be okay. You know that, right?"

Then Mat lifted his head and glanced tearfully at Luke before hiding behind his hands. "I guess... I just... I thought I was stronger than this. And now I realize that I'm not and that I can't just get over myself and-"

Sensing that he was about to break down again, Lukas shushed him. "Hush. You just moved out of the house at sixteen years old. No one's expecting you to stay strong all the time. Living without parents is really rough, and it can make kids make a lot of mistakes."

"How would you know-" then he cut off, realizing the idiocy in his own statement. "Oh."

"My response was a bit more dramatic than yours, though," he admitted bashfully, pushing a stray lock of platinum blond hair behind his ear as he averted his gaze.

"How so?" Mat asked before he could stop himself.

"You don't need to know," he replied quickly and awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable. He turned to Matthias. "Just realize that you're doing fine, and that things like this take time to heal. No one can be happy all the time, no matter how hard they try."

* * *

"Luke," Emil asked on a warm June evening three years earlier. "Where's Dad?"

"I..." He furrowed his brow in confusion. "Don't know. Did he not come home from work today?"

Emil shook his head. "No. It's almost seven, Luke. I'm scared."

Though he was panicking on the inside, he tried his best to keep calm as he assured, "Emil, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. Lemme give him a call..."

He picked up the home phone and dialed the number if his father's workplace. "Hi, I was wondering if I could speak to Mr. Bondevik? Aksel Bondevik?" Suddenly, his eyes widened, and his hands clenched such that he had a death grip on the phone with one hand, and on Emil's shoulder with the other. "He quit? That's not possible... Yeah, okay. I guess. Thanks anyway." Then he hung up.

"What is it? Did he quit?" Emil asked anxiously, perturbed by the very idea.

Luke shook his head, still unable to believe what he'd just heard. "Apparently yesterday was his last day."

"So where is he now?" He seemed to be somewhat at a loss, not understanding what was happening in the slightest.

He shrugged. "I don't know. Either way, I probably need to make us dinner. Let's go to the kitchen."

Emil agreed, and followed him to the kitchen, where Luke pulled some boxed macaroni and cheese out of the cupboard and filled a pot with water.

That's when Emil saw it – a piece of scrap paper sitting on the kitchen table, with a letter written in his father's handwriting.

Jackpot.

"Hey, look!" he cried. "Luke, there's a note!"

Luke swiveled around on his feet, abandoning the pot of water for something much more intriguing. "A note? What's it say?"

Emil started to read it (at least, he tried to read it). "K- uhh, kee-yare, wait no, that says kjære... Uh, it's..." He gave up. "It's in Norwegian. I can't really read it very well. Can you translate?"

Now, the Bondeviks had moved to America right after Emil was born, and though they spoke plenty of Norwegian (and occasionally Icelandic, their deceased mother's language), Emil was terrible at reading it, and he really didn't enjoy speaking Norwegian if he didn't have to.

He'd always been more drawn to Icelandic, but his brother had a hard time speaking that, so they tended to just settle for English.

"Sure. Let me see..." He walked over to Emil and grabbed the paper that his brother was holding out to him.

He read the first line, then thought through the translation for a moment before clearing his throat. "_Dear Lukas and Emil_," he began.

It was the first time anyone had called him anything but 'Luke' in years (though it would by no means be the last).

The next line stabbed him in the heart, and he struggled to say, "_I'm a total and complete failure. I've never been a good father to you, especially after..._" His voice cracked. "_After Mom died. I neglect you, I'm depressed, and I can't handle this_."

Luke paused, collecting his thoughts. He couldn't cry. He couldn't cry now. He had to be strong.

After he was certain he'd be able to keep it together, he went on. "_I will continue to pay the_..." Oh god, he knew that word in English. What was it? "Uh, rent?" He shook his head. "Nei, mortgage._ I think. I will continue to pay the mortgage for the house. House bills will automatically be forwarded to my new address. It's the least I could do_.

"_Lukas_," – and there was his full first name again, formal and cold and everything his father was – "_I trust that you'll be a better father than I ever could be. You..._"

He wanted to tear the paper to shreds. He decided in that moment that his father was the most cruel and callous person he'd ever met... And Luke would forever associate himself with that same coldness. _"You are so similar to me_," he spat, "_yet you are just as responsible as your mother._"

"_I trust you!_" Luke shouted vehemently, and though it was a statement addressed to him from his father, Emil couldn't see anything but Luke cursing their father out, yelling and screaming, "I trusted you!"

But he had to get a grip. He had to be there for Emil.

He couldn't be shallow, or impudent, or immature.

He was Lukas Bondevik, cold as ice, deep and mysterious as the sea, and impossible to penetrate.

"_Emil_," he continued coolly,_ "you're very mature for your age, and I trust that you'll help your brother."_

"_I'm not telling you my location._"

_Of course_.

"_Don't look for me._"

_Wasn't planning on it._

_"You don't want a coward for a father, anyway."_

And for once within this god-forsaken letter, Luke agreed.

"_Love_," he said, but his tone said _hate_.

"_Fucking Dad!_" he yelled before he burst into tears, yelling and crying and cursing.

What an idiot his father was.

What a stupid, fucking imbecile his father was.

* * *

"Don't eat that!" Leon yelled desperately to his step-mother as she cut herself a slice of delicious chocolate cake.

She dropped the knife abruptly, turning to Leon with wide eyes and raised brows. "Why not?" she asked, slightly shocked and a little suspicious.

"It's..." He floundered for a reasonable excuse. "It's Arthur's! He contaminated it!"

Then she let out a short laugh, scoffing as she picked up the knife again. "Leon, don't be so paranoid. It's been days. Any germs he could have left would be gone by now."

"Yeah, but, like, just to be careful," he interjected just as she was about to continue cutting the cake.

Arthur's mother gave him a warning glare, wagging her knife as she would a punitive finger as she remarked, "You're acting strange, Leon. What did you do to it?"

"Nothing, I just, like..." Ah shit, she was totally onto him. "It would really be best if you didn't eat that," he squeaked humiliatingly in a last-ditch effort to keep his mother away from the cake.

Fortunately, she finally relented, taking one of the scones on the counter instead and walking off contentedly with a cup of black tea.

Leon sighed in relief, then went back upstairs to binge watch Free!- er, uh, finish up his homework.

Right.

But it was too late, for his older brothers had overheard the conversation. "Huh." Arthur furrowed his thick eyebrows quizzically as he turned to Yao. "That's bizarre."

"No kidding," Yao replied. "I wonder if he poisoned it."

That was an interesting thought, and the more Arthur thought about it, the more sense it made.

Leon and Emil were very close, after all.

Dear lord, they'd had a spy under their noses the whole time, hadn't they?

His face went slack. "Do you think he's working with the Nordic Five?"

"Let's find out," Yao replied as his lip curled into a disappointed frown.

Really? Leon? His little munchkin?

But if there was one thing Yao and Arthur had in common, it was their unwavering logic and callousness in the face of difficult scenarios. They had to know for sure, and they would not let personal feelings get in the way.

Yao was the first one in the kitchen, sticking his finger in the fluffy buttercream frosting of the cake as Arthur followed.

"The frosting seems fine," Yao observed, licking his finger (yet somehow still seeming prim and meticulous as ever), "but let me taste a bit of the cake."

Arthur wasn't so sure about his methods. "Wouldn't you blow chunks as well?"

"Not if I only have a bite," he assured him as he broke off a piece of scrumptious-looking chocolate cake and popped it into his mouth.

He swallowed it down, but cringed as he did so, and he scowled at no one on particular as he identified the bug in the food.

"What's up?" Arthur demanded. "Is something off?"

Though he looked reluctant to admit that the adorable angel could possibly have attacked their band, Yao deadpanned and nodded in affirmation. "Castor oil – I can taste it."

"How could you possibly taste that?" Arthur asked, since he couldn't find anything off about it.

"Don't question, just trust me." His years of experience with both cooking and practical jokes had made him very familiar with the stuff, and that cake was undoubtedly laced with laxatives.

"So I've been bugged?" Arthur huffed indignantly.

"Definitely."

Yao thought he would waste their precious time crying or cursing someone out (or blaming it all on Lukas), but he quickly got a hold on himself, and the look on his face settled into one if determination. "Well fuck this shit, let's get them back!"

The thought were noble, but Yao had to wonder if that was the most intelligent option. "I don't know about-"

"Shut it, Yao," Arthur interrupted, unshakeable in his sense if vengeance (justifiably so – he missed all his classes for the day and three band rehearsals, not to mention the relentless sickness in his stomach). "We need to brain storm."

"Let's call a band meeting," Yao decided; they'd probably want the full ensemble there if they wanted to implement anything complex, especially now that Ivan, their main sabotage specialist, had quit.

"No need," his step-brother replied, waving a dismissive hand. "Alfred has a Model UN meeting right now and Francis isn't helpful anyway."

He rolled his eyes. "All of you are unhelpful, honestly. But I agree that planning is probably easier with less people."

"You don't need to be so sassy," Arthur shot back.

"Like you aren't sassier than I am," Yao sassed, his tone equally venomous. "Alright, we need to find a way to get to them..."

Then, suddenly, the well-hidden cracks in Arthur's confident revealed themselves, written clearly in the slumping of his shoulders and his hopeless sigh. "But we've already failed twice. I think we need more information first."

Contrary to his nature, he actually felt bad for him.

Which was strange, because no one had ever really felt bad for Arthur before.

Okay, well, fine, there used to be Lukas, but...

Yao decided not to dwell on that. "Well, do we know someone on the inside?"

That was a good question.

A very good question.

There was silence for a moment, then at the same instant, both their eyes lit up in realization, and in unison they shouted:

"Leon!"

It was loud enough that they actually managed to get Leon's attention, and the boy stumbled down the stairs unenthusiastically. "Oh my god," he groaned. "Like, what is it?"

"Umm..." Truthfully, Yao was just surprised he'd come so quickly.

Arthur was a bit more prepared. "Leon, you know Emil pretty well, right?"

He raised an eyebrow in suspicion, but he still sat down at the kitchen table. "Uh, yeah? Why?"

Then Arthur walked behind him and rested his hands on his shoulders in a show of affection, though his cocky smirk spoke to mischief and deceit. "Just how well do you know him?"

"Not you guys too," he griped, face-palming in disdain. "We're not dating, for fuck's sake!"

"Wait, Leon-"

"Come on!" he shouted. "First Lukas, now you two. I'm not even into guys."

Arthur covered his mouth. "No no, we're not talking about that."

Leon rolled his eyes. "What is it then? I don't take orders from either of you."

Luckily, Yao had an idea. He took a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet and slammed it on the table in front of his brother.

That was fair. "I'm listening."

"All we need is information," Arthur explained, rubbing Leon's shoulders soothingly.

"Info?" He gawked, turning to him. "What for?"

"We need to know," Arthur said with half-lidded eyes and a sly demeanor, "how to destroy your friend's band."

* * *

"You've been silent for an hour now," Lukas noted with concern from his spot on an overstuffed armchair in the living room.

Matthias stifled a yawn, then regarded Luke sleepily. "Sorry, my headache just went away, and I'm still kinda tired."

"It's alright," he replied almost too quickly and sweetly, as if any inconvenience to Mat by his hands would be viewed as an act of treachery. "Did you still want to talk? Y'know, like you wanted to yesterday?"

His question was soft and uncertain like walking on a fragile glass floor.

But Matthias wasn't made of glass.

"Oh, uh, sure!" He tried to fake a smile, but then his face fell as he finally processed the question. "What did I want to talk about yesterday?"

Lukas raised an eyebrow. "You don't remember?"

He smiled bashfully and admitted, "Last night's kind of a blur."

"I'll believe that," he remarked with a humorless laugh. "You were crying because I wasn't going out with you yet."

That did nothing for the bright pink blush that was starting to blossom across his cheeks. "I was that drunk?"

"Or that in love," Luke shot back playfully, figuring it would probably be best to lighten the mood a bit.

"Well, you're one to talk," Mat scoffed in reply. "Weren't you the one that decided to seduce me last time you were drunk?"

He had a point, but Lukas pointed out, "I try to seduce everyone when I'm that drunk."

Matthias smirked. "Or that horny."

"Y'know, I can't argue with that one," he started, but he paused when he saw Mat biting his lip, eyes aimed at the floor. "Sorry, I'm making you uncomfortable."

He shook his head. "Nah, it's fine. It's my fault for bringing it up."

"Me being horny?" Lukas asked teasingly, head cocked to the side. "Or-"

"When I got home last night," he interrupted, adjusting his glasses, which had fallen slightly askew. "You wanted to wait for later. I should've known not to rush you."

"Mat, a drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts. Am I really the only one holding this back?" It was undoubtedly a shrewd observation, and Matthias couldn't deny it.

"I don't know," he admitted. "When you said you wanted to wait, I thought I was ready, but now I'm not so sure. I don't want to rush."

Rush? Them? God, well it wasn't like they'd already had a drunken one-night stand and two additional make out sessions, was it? "Matthias, I think we broke that barrier long ago."

"You've got a point." He let out a thoughtful sigh, then met Luke's gaze with a stern and serious expression uncharacteristic of him. "Why don't you want this yet, though?"

"Arthur and I kind of had a lousy breakup," Lukas reiterated (though he supposed Matthias probably didn't remember him talking about this the previous night. "We used to be good friends, though he wasn't nice as you are. I'm just being paranoid. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I've..." He scratched the back of his neck meekly. "Actually never been in a relationship. I don't even know how to do this. What happens if I mess up?"

Lukas looked dubious. "You? Mess up? I doubt it."

"Well, I pretty effectively fucked up my relationship with my mom," Mat replied, rolling his eyes.

"That's her problem," he said without hesitation, because Matthias could not possibly blame himself for his own mother's short-comings.

"What about last time we fought?"

"That was my fault."

He believed his words completely – his remaining feelings of inadequacy fueling an unquenchable need to blame himself for everything that went wrong, no matter how small.

As much as he loved to criticize everyone, he criticized himself more harshly than anyone else.

Matthias hated it. He wasn't made of glass. "Luke, you can't blame that all on yourself. We both should've more rational. That was both of us."

"You seem pretty calm right now," Luke said, as if that disproved his argument in the slightest.

"That's not how it works, Lukas, and you know it..." Then, contrary to all expectations, he let out an exasperated growl. "God, how am even I supposed to know if I'm ready?"

"Exactly!" Luke shouted back, equally passionate. "Neither of us are ever gonna know. I love you, and you love me, so why not? Don't you trust me?"

And though it was just one simple impassioned remark, it ratcheted up memories of the previous evening. "This... We were talking about this yesterday... Wasn't I the one who asked you that?"

Luke shrugged. "Probably. I dunno, I saw you yesterday, and... You're lonely. I thought I could help." His blush was cute, but Mat figured his own cheeks were probably pinker.

"I guess," he replied. "But are you alright with this?"

"Figured I wouldn't know until I tried," Lukas finally explained, and suddenly Matthias got it."

Trying didn't sound so bad

Mat could so that.

"So... You wanna try?" Matthias asked, totally giddy already.

"I don't see why not."

"Okay, then!" he called awkwardly but confidently. "Let's do this."

"Alright."

Then he realized he had no idea what he was doing. "Umm, so, uhh, do we like, hold hands or something? Or-"

Lukas had heard more than enough of that, cutting him off with a slow and chaste kiss. Their lips moved in harmony with each other, and he wrapped his arm around Mat, who could think to do nothing but close his eyes and go along with it.

"Oh. That works," he quipped once the last lingering little smooches had subsided.

"God, you're such a dork," Luke said with a light laugh.

It was the happiest Mat had seen him in a long time. "That makes you the boyfriend of a dork," he shot back.

"Boyfriend?" he asked, feigning shock. "Wow, bringing out the loaded words, are you? Next you'll admit that.." He looked both ways to check for onlookers, then leaned down to his ear and whispered, "You like-like me."

Mat snorted. "Okay, that was even dorkier than what I said."

"Shouldn't I be allowed to be a dork, if I'm your... _Boyfriend_?" he asked with a pointed nudge.

"Only if I'm allowed to kiss you again." Matthias smirked, finally gaining confidence in this.

"Deal," was all Luke could manage before Matthias grabbed his face and pulled him in for another kiss.

* * *

_"Dear mother,_

_Can you hear me whining?_

_It's been three whole weeks_

_Since I left your home"_

~"Welcome to Paradise", _Dookie_, Green Day


	21. Knock On Wood

**Synchronism: deliberately achieved coincidence at a specified point of time.**

_Note: the name "Line" is pronounced "LEE-neh", not like the infinitely-extended one-dimensional figure with no curvature that I know you want it to be_

* * *

"You gotta wait until the night of the concert," Leon explained, a dastardly smirk playing at his lips.

Arthur seemed confused, but not defiant. "Why?"

"Maximum stress levels. That, and they can't get revenge."

Well, that actually sounded pretty convincing.

"Yao?" Arthur asked, turning to him.

"He's right," Yao replied, seeing no reason to criticize.

"Alright," Arthur replied affirmatively, "what do you think we should do then?"

Leon let out a light laugh – he knew exactly what to do.

The ultimate plan against the Nordic Five was finally in action.

* * *

One would be hard-pressed find Lukas more stressed than he was the day before the concert.

Emil sat at the kitchen table, scowling over some difficult proofs that he really didn't want to bother with, while Matthias frowned at an equally difficult game of 2048.

It only took about fifteen minutes (all spent trying to solve a single math problem) before Emil snapped his pencil in half and yelled, "Luke, quit it already! I'm trying to do my geometry homework!"

"You should be singing anyway!" he snapped, entirely in a rage and incapable of ceasing his fidgeting.

"Chill, Luke," Matthias interjected, setting down his smartphone and walking over to grab the distressed punk's shoulders. "He needs to keep up with his grades. You should probably go do your homework as well."

"How am I supposed to do that? My guitar playing is still so unpolished..." He paused for a moment, unable to find the right words to complete his thought, then let put a frustrated groan. "We'll never have a chance, given where I'm at now."

Matthias refused to believe such slanderous lies. "Lukas, you were up at four in the morning practicing. You sounded great. What more do you need, if you're already losing sleep over this? Honestly, I think a nap would help more than anything else."

This only vexed Lukas further, who started prattling aimlessly. "I can't go to sleep I'm so awake and everything's so overwhelming and it's already almost seven at night and no one's even started on dinner yet what the hell everything is going wrong."

"Um..." Mat blinked, then gave Luke a worried expression and asked, "Out of curiosity, how many cups of coffee have you had today?"

"Four- wait, no... I, uh..." He turned his gaze to the ground, face bright pink. "I lost count after the second pot."

Emil whistled.

"Is it even possible to drink that much coffee in a day?" Matthias queried as Lukas continued to fidget.

"If anyone can, it's Lukas," Emil replied bluntly, totally forgetting about his homework at this point.

Luke was offended by this. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Alright," his brother decided, "you need to calm down."

"What are you talking about Emil I'm completely calm I'm just-"

"Luke. Calm," Matthias tried to say soothingly, running his hands through his boyfriend's hair.

For once, Lukas didn't argue, inhaling slowly through his node before sighing. "Right. Calm."

"It'll be fine," he promised. "You're a great guitarist, Emil's a great singer, and we've been rehearsing every day, right?"

"Right."

Then Mat lightly patted his head as if Luke were an obedient puppy or something of that nature (he hadn't necessarily wanted it to feel so condescending, but his awkwardness shone through). "See? No reason to stress."

"Okay," Luke said, seemingly satisfied until he thought it over for a bit. "But I've still had like twelve billion cups of coffee oh my god that's so unhealthy what the fuck was I thinking?"

"Uhh..." And finally, Mat ran out of comforting things to say.

Luckily, Emil saved him. "At least you're hydrated. And energized."

"Yeah, let's go with that. Maybe you should run around a bit to try to get rid of some of that jitteriness," he suggested, hoping to help at least a little.

"That's not a bad idea actually I kinda wanna run around in the snow that sounds like fun Mat do you wanna come with me?" Luke asked, sentences still coming in long, unorganized chains.

"Uh, sure?"

And with that, Lukas grabbed his boyfriend's arm and started to drag him out of the house. "Great, let's go!"

"Wait, Luke, it's below zero out there!" Well, zero degrees Celsius (stupid American temperature systems), but it was still pretty cold. "Don't we need coats?"

"Coats are for the weak!" Luke shouted back to him as he opened the front door.

"No, coats are for the sane!" Mat shot back, not ready for this in the slightest.

"Are you claiming to be sane?" Luke asked.

Matthias had no response, so they walked out into the barren tundra that was their front yard, door slamming behind them.

Emil stared at the front door, shaking his head and saying, "Heaven help them," with the utmost disdain before returning to his homework.

* * *

"We need to trap them," he said flatly, as if that was entirely obvious.

The other wasn't quite so sure. "All of them? Impossible. How do we get them all in the same room?"

"Lie," he commanded. "They all trust you. Each band is assigned a practice room. Arthur's entrusted me with the implementation of the sabotage, and Mr. Edelstein put me in charge of assigning the rooms."

His partner in crime smirked. "Perks of being on the student council, huh?"

"That and the first chair viola player," he added. "Edelstein, like, loves me. But here's the plan: we tell them all to go to practice room 6."

"Why that room?"

"I have the key to that room," he explained coyly, "Like all the buildings at our school, it locks from the outside."

Then his parter smirked. "Oh, you're evil."

He was very proud of himself. "I know. Here's the deal though: we have them all go in. They're supposed to get there, like, an hour before the concert starts, so we need to make sure we have the fake room assigned, then lock them in before stage checks half an hour later."

"How do I get out?" The other asked. "I'll be I'm there with them because... You know."

"Make an excuse, like, umm-"

"I got it," his partner interrupted. "Thanks. But... What about-"

"Everyone else?" he paused, then let out a sort of evil (but mostly just dorky) laugh. "Don't worry, I've already got it all worked out. Leave it to me."

* * *

Berwald had just opened the door, bass guitar case in his left hand, when his father stopped him, asking, "Berwald, where are you going?"

That alone was a wildly unexpected anomaly – his dad, a distant and offhanded but not unpleasant single guy in his 40s, was actually concerned about where he was going?

He could expect such things when he was at his mother's house, his mother being of a more stern and strict manner, but the last time his father had shown any semblance of concern for his whereabouts had been his first night over at Tino's house once the two had started dating.

Which was entirely justified in Berwald's opinion, because honestly he would have worried had his father not questioned him about something of that nature.

But he digressed. This situation was fucking weird.

How was he even supposed to respond? Did the bass guitar he was carrying not make his intentions clear enough? Was there some emergency? Should he panic?

Since the possibilities were endless, he decided a simple response would be best. "Rehearsal?"

His father awkwardly paused, coughed awkwardly into his hand, then awkwardly replied, "Could you not tonight?"

"Well, th' concert's tomorrow," Berwald pointed out, because they both knew how long Berwald had been anticipating this.

The look he gave his son was one of guilt and sympathy (which was rare enough that Berwald knew he was bend sincere). "Just this once, Ber?"

Again, weird. "Why?" he asked, because this seemed about as justified as his school's dress code (and the dress code at his school was pretty remarkably stupid).

"I..." Then, to Berwald's astonishing, his father, the stoic and decidedly masculine Swede, actually blushed. "I've met someone."

Someone? Who was someone? Were they important? Like, the President of the United States, or the King of Sweden, or an actual girl-

Wait. Wait! Ohhh, _that_ someone. His father was attempting romance? Again? "You've been dating again?"

Then, to confirm Berwald's worst suspicions, he nodded. "Yes, and I wanted you to meet her. She's coming for dinner tonight; could you just stay this one evening?"

Alright, well... Berwald couldn't claim not to be happy for him, but...

Really? Tonight?

But he saw the sincerity in his father's eyes, and relented. "Mhm, that should be okay. Might get some shit from Lukas, though. Lemme make a call."

"Alright, I'll start cooking. Thanks, Berwald!"

Okay, that was the last straw. Since when did his father cook? What the ever-loving fuck?

"Sure thing," he sighed as he pulled out his cell and retreated to his bedroom for the sake of his peace of mind.

Fearing the worst but hoping for the best, he dialed Lukas' number.

It took four rings for him to answer, which was three rings more than it usually took. "Hey, Ber," he said, voice drowsy and muffled as if he had just gotten out of bed, though the lack of further criticism ("oh my god what is it this time", "you're late dude gay the fuck") made Berwald worry.

"Hey, Luke... Y'okay? Sounds like you're gonna die." At least he was honest.

"Kinda feels like it, too. Remind me never to drink three pots of coffee in one day again. Not fun." Well, that explained it. "Anyway, why did you call?"

Berwald braced himself before responding, "Dad's got a date here t'night, wants me to stay. I've gotta miss rehearsal."

There was a long pause, and Berwald could sense the tension in the air. Finally, Lukas sighed. "Really? Tonight?"

"Sorry, Luke." He wasn't actually sorry, but saying so wouldn't exactly help his case.

"Sorry?" he iterated. "That's all you have to say? The concert's tomorrow! You can't just not show up!"

"Luke, y'know how long m'dad's been lookin' for a girlfriend," Berwald argued in an attempt at getting Lukas to see what a dick he was being.

Lukas continued to be a dick anyhow. "And I also know just how socially awkward your dad is. Do you really think I'll believe that he just happened to find one right now? The night before the concert? Are you a traitor now? What the fuck, Ber?"

"'F y'don't want me to play t'morrow 'cos of somethin' as stupid as this, that's your problem," Berwald shot back in an uncanny display of sassiness.

"Me?" Luke scoffed indignantly. "I'm the problem now?"

It sounded like he was about to tell Berwald off, but he cut off, the phone dropping to the ground.

There was some yelling and cursing, then the phone was picked up again for a moment, only to drop again just a second later.

Finally, the shit going down on the other end subsided, and he heard Emil clear his throat, mouth near the mic. "Don't listen to him," he advised. "He's in a bad mood. Go ahead and do whatever, Ber, it's not like you'd call if it wasn't important."

"Oh... Okay. Thanks. Guess I'll see ya t'morrow then."

"Yup!" he replied a little too cheerfully given the fact that this was a Bondevik, but at this point, Berwald didn't give a fuck. "Rehearsal starts at 9 a.m. tomorrow, okay?"

Lukas yelled at him in the background.

Emil sighed. "Okay, scratch that, seven AM," he corrected. "That's okay, right?"

He shrugged. "Sounds good t'me."

"Sweet! Catch you later, Berwald."

They both hung up, and Berwald decided to return to the kitchen before his father burned the house down.

* * *

His father's date was really stunning in a quirky sort of way – her blond hair (which was growing in gray in the front) cropped at the chin and allowed to run wild, end pointing every which way, lips painted bright red, sparkling blue eyes shining like... Like diamonds in the sky.

And now Berwald had a Rihanna song stuck in his head. Brilliant.

It was apparent, however, that Berwald had a hard time taking his gaze off of her. The confident and defiant glint in her eyes, the way her hair fell... It was so familiar.

"Nice t'meet ya," he greeted, trying to be cordial.

"You too!" she replied, shaking his hand. "Your father's told me all about you! My name is Line, by the way."

"Line?" he repeated, noting the name's oddity in the States. "Are you Scandinavian?"

Line beamed. "Ja, I'm Danish! I've been told you wouldn't be able to understand it though."

Berwald didn't argue. "Can't understand the accent. Only do Swedish 'n' Norwegian."

"That's fair."

Then his father, not finding good words to say, but assuming he didn't need to speak at this point anyway, he led them to the dinner table, where he'd set the table all fancy-like with a hella rad candle.

Well, the candle had been Berwald's idea, but that was beside the point.

"Y'said ya had a son as well, Line?" his father asked, having expected him to show up as well.

For the first time this evening, Berwald saw Line's smile falter. "He... Wasn't able to make it this evening. He's been, ah, staying at a friend's house."

Shit.

Everything came together.

The crazy blond hair, the lively blue eyes, the endless smile, her coming from motherfucking Denmark...

Dear lord.

"You're Matthias' mom?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Her eyes widened at the mention of Matthias, and she quickly replied, "You know Matthias? Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine. Kinda pissed 'n' stuff, but that's Mat for you," he explained with a shrug. "He's in my band."

She gawked. "You're in that punk band too? But you seem so straight-laced."

Then, shockingly, his father actually let out a small laugh. "Course he is," he remarked. "He and his boyfriend are both in the band, and they're pretty damn good as well. All of them are A students."

Line didn't believe him. "Even the one with the crazy hair and a million piercings?"

Berwald smirked. "Lukas? Yeah, he actually tutored Mat a couple months back."

"That was him? He seems so scary though."

"Wouldn't want Ber dating him," his father said, "but that's just 'cos they're both so quiet. Doesn't have any parents at home, so he's had a hard time."

Wait, had Berwald ever actually told him that?

How had he found out?

... Was his father a stalker?

Either way, he didn't speak up – if this could earn Matthias his mother's acceptance, then he was more than content to just luck back and let him do all the work.

"God," she exclaimed, "why didn't he just tell me that? Teenagers, I swear to god. How do I get him back now, though?"

"Concert t'morrow at th'school," Berwald suggested. "Y'should come."

Line smiled. "Consider me sold."

* * *

The remainder of Mr. Oxenstierna's dinner date and the next day's rehearsal both went by without incident, and by the time the band arrived at the school in the evening, they were all pumped.

"Well," Lukas exclaimed as they walked to their assigned practice room, "tonight's finally the night."

"The night we take down the Allies for good!" Mat finished for him, determined and excited and just as competitive as he always was.

"You got that right," Emil agreed with a mischievous smirk as Tino (who was holding the paper with their room on it) led them around a corner. "Though I'm still not quite sure about singing."

Berwald rolled his eyes. "Why? You're fine."

Tino nodded. "Yeah, you sing great, Emil! You'll do awesome tonight!" Then he stopped walking. "Guys, this is the room. Ooh, and there's already a drum kit in here, too!"

"Do I really want to use that piece of shit?" Matthias whined, which was fair given how trashed the kit was.

"Unless you're that set on wasting time," Lukas shot back, rolling his eyes. "There's a better one on the stage already; you can live with a shitty set for the next half hour."

"Fine."

So they settled in the room, warming up and running through their first number when-

"What the bloody hell are you wankers doing here?" Arthur yelled, interrupting their song as his band entered the practice room after his lead.

Tino couldn't help but notice that Ivan had returned to the band, and regarded him with a scowl.

Emil stopped singing and deadpanned. "Practicing."

"This," Arthur replied through gritted teeth, "is _our_ practice room. Find your own."

And with that, the fuse the Allies had lit by entering ran out, and everyone exploded into chaos.

Lukas and Arthur started cursing and yelling and spitting on each other as if they were seven again, and Berwald was the only thing keeping Matthias from pouncing at Yao, who had apparently looked at him funny.

Ber hadn't managed to get to Tino on time, and he was already squaring up with Ivan, ready to throttle him and anyone else who dare stand in his way.

No one saw Emil walk out of the room, locking the door behind him.

He texted Leon:

_"Just locked them in. Everything's going according to plan. Hopefully it works out - knock on wood ;)"_

* * *

_"I'm not a coward, I've just never been tested._

_I'd like to think that if I was I would pass."_

~ "The Impression That I Get",_ Let's Face It_, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones


	22. Chewing On Tinfoil

**Coda: a term used in music in a number of different senses, primarily to designate a passage that brings a piece (or a movement) to an end. **

* * *

"Alright, that's it! If you really want, we can take the one next door!" Alfred yelled over the masses, who were still engaged in a chaotic brawl.

For once in his life, Francis agreed. "He's right! Fighting is just reducing our practice time!"

Then, finally, the masses decided it would be best to shut the fuck up, and Francis made his way to the door.

But the knob wouldn't turn.

He tried in vain to push open the door, but it would not budge.

"What the fuck is up?" Arthur demanded.

"Don't worry, Artie, Francis is just a wimp," Alfred replied as he motioned for the Frenchman to step aside, putting his hand on the knob.

It wouldn't turn – not even a little.

Now, this was Alfred. If Alfred wasn't strong enough to open a door, they might as well have been in a jail cell.

So he turned around again, then, with a nervous smile, exclaimed, "Yeah, we're screwed."

That was the moment everything devolved to madness.

* * *

"So," Leon said to Emil, who was reading the program for the evening, "How's the concert gonna work?"

They both sat in a spare practice room, unnoticed by everyone else.

"Well, first there's a vocal performance from Lizzie, with Roderich Edelstein accompanying her on the piano," Emil replied, trying not to seem too excited for his friend, Elizabeta, who was both a senior and an aspiring music major, which made her seem extra cool given that he was a freshman who liked music.

Leon frowned. "But that's not even a band!"

"She's not competing," he explained. "She's just singing for fun. After her piece, the first band, Benelux (whatever the fuck that even means), is gonna play their songs, then My Chemical Romance is gonna hold a reunion concert."

"Really?"

He shook his head. "No, but I needed to make sure you were paying attention... Anyway, after them is The Axis Powers, then Aussie and Oz (wow, cheesy band name much?), then you, Yong Soo, and Michelle are up, then we have a brief comedic interlude from Carlos Machado and Matthew Williams."

"Alright," Leon replied, "so I totally nail it and win the whole thing, two people I've never heard of attempt stand-up comedy, then..."

"Natalya and Katyusha Braginsky wow us with their amazing cover of a t.A.T.u. song," Emil supplied with a smirk.

Leon blinked. "You're joking."

"I wish I was," he replied, shaking his head in disdain. "The Baltics are next, then the Allies are up."

"Then your band goes?"

"Sweet. That gives them... How long?" he asked, concerned.

"I'd say about two hours from whenever it starts in..." He glanced at his watch, then said, "Twenty minutes."

Two hours and twenty minutes for all the rifts to come to an end... Leon was skeptical. "Think they'll do it?"

Emil looked him in the eyes for a moment as if doing so would give the ability to read his mind, then shrugged his shoulders. "That depends on Luke and Arthur, doesn't it?"

"You... Didn't really answer my question," he sighed, running a stressed hand through his choppy, shoulder-length hair. "I mean, what do they even, like, gain from this if they don't work it out? Just the pleasure of kicking our asses afterward?"

He had a point.

"If they don't manage to settle it, then I guess we'll see what happens," Emil said after a beat of silence. "Either way, I want them to quit trying to beat each other up. They used to be... Y'know..."

"Like, best friends?" Leon finished for him.

His friend nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, I guess we just have to, like, hope for the best then, right?"

Another nod. "Right."

Because in the end, he was okay with being considered a traitor, so long as his brother and Leon's stepbrother could stop constantly plotting each other's deaths.

Even if that meant that his band didn't win.

* * *

"I don't understand," Yao proclaimed once the chaos had subsided. "We told Leon to lock the Nordic Five in their room, and he locks us in with them? What the hell is wrong with him?"

"Don't ask me, you're the one who's related to him," Arthur scoffed, staring down at his step-brother with conceit in his eyes.

But his leer was quickly squelched by Lukas, who grabbed him by the collar and pulled him closer, murder in his eyes and interrogations on his tongue. "Wait a minute... You were planning on locking us up?"

Arthur puffed out his chest like a cock (or perhaps a dick) would do when squaring up to fight. "You poisoned me!"

"You tied up my baby brother!" Luke shouted back with the ferocity of a saber-toothed tiger (the… extinct… saber-toothed tiger). "Right, Emil?" he added belatedly, averting his gaze so he could see his brother affirm such accusations.

There was no reply for a moment.

And... Nope. Still no reply.

Now that everyone was looking, they realized that Emil was nowhere to be seen. Lukas was shocked enough that he actually released his ex.

"Emil?... Where is he?" he demanded of Arthur, as if he had the answer.

Arthur only shrugged.

"I don't see him," Tino observed, as if that much wasn't ridiculously obvious to everyone else.

Mat cleared his throat, not out of necessity but so as to get attention before further warfare was waged. "Do you think he left?"

"Well, he _is_ pretty much Leon's boyfriend," Yao responded with a cold and unforgiving scowl.

"Isn't he aromantic?" Matthias asked, though the raised eyebrows and inquisitive stares indicated that such information was not common knowledge.

Lukas looked at him like he was crazy. "What?"

"Emil hasn't told 'im yet," Berwald explained before addressing Lukas. "Could be with Leon."

"So he's a traitor?" Tino asked in disbelief.

He shrugged. "Guess so."

"But that's impossible!" Lukas cried indignantly. "It's Emil! He couldn't hurt a fly."

"Maybe in your eyes," Arthur shot back with a pointed eye roll. "He bested Ivan, for fuck's sake."

"Through negotiation," Luke argued, in the boy's defense.

Arthur was undeterred. "Exactly. He knows how to manipulate people, and Leon's quiet and sneaky. They'd make an excellent team. Or rather, I think they already are."

No one argued, and after a beat of silence, Lukas let out a dejected sigh. "I can't believe this."

It looked like either Tino or Francis was going to speak next, but at that moment, there came a rustling under the door.

"Ah shit!" yelled Alfred, who was still standing right there from his failed attempt at opening said door. "What the fuck!"

His interjection seemed pretty silly moments later, when everyone realized it was just a piece of paper

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Yao reprimanded. "Pick it up."

"Okay." So he plucked it off the ground, astutely observing that someone had written a message on the paper. "Ooh look, it's a note!"

Lukas rolled his eyes. "Read it."

"I..." He squinted at it for a bit before looking back up at the crowd with a dejected pout. "I can't read the handwriting."

Arthur let out a sigh, holding out his hand. "Hand it over."

* * *

The first performance had just been announced when Leon walked away from the fated rehearsal room, note delivered.

Everything was going according to plan, except...

What the fuck was Peter doing here?

"What the fuuuu-...rick are you doing here?" he asked, repeating his thoughts aloud and barely catching himself before he dropped an f-bomb in front of the twelve year-old.

That would have been fun to explain to his step-dad.

Peter flashed him his most convincing smile, showing off all his crooked white teeth with red and black braces. "You're not the only spy, Leon! I know what you're doing, and I so totally want in?"

Leon raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"It's only seven," he retorted, irritated and unimpressed, crossing his arms over his Lego Movie teeshirt.

"Aren't you, like, five years old?"

Peter looked like he was about to reply, even more offended than he'd previously been, but Leon cut him off.

"Kidding, kidding," he interjected, hands up in submission. "Don't worry, dude, we can totally find something cool for you to do. Let's go see Emil."

So Peter followed him down the hall and to backstage, where Emil was trying to do his eyeliner at one of the vacant vanities that had been set up, though he clearly wasn't very good at it, given the thick smudge marks and shaky lines.

"Whoa, Emil, you look like a zombie!" Leon exclaimed in greeting.

To the surprise of both Peter and Leon, Emil actually banged his head on the desk in an effective mock face-palm (or rather, a face-desk). "I know, it sucks," he groaned. "This is why I don't do makeup."

"Well I think it looks cool!" Peter said in attempted reassurance.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" he shot back, forehead still glued to the desk so no one could see his terrible guyliner.

The boy deadpanned and asked, "Why does everyone always say that?"

"Because you're four feet tall," Leon replied, mussing the Peter's hair. "Yao says everyone thought Arthur was a kindergartner until he was in tenth grade."

Peter let out a sigh. "That sucks."

"I feel ya." Emil finally lifted his head to look at the kid. "I'm still only five foot four, and when I was your age, I was about your height. My brother says my mom's side of the family gets their height late though, so I guess there's still hope. What are you doing here, anyway? Did you come to help?"

He nodded.

Emil gave him a small but authentic smile. "I don't suppose you know how to do makeup, do you?"

"Uhhh... No," he responded bashfully, wishing for once that he knew how makeup worked.

"Michelle can help once she shows up," Leon said. "But you could've just asked me. I don't have to be on guard the whole time."

And with that, Leon plucked the eyeliner out of Emil's hand, pocketing it before he turned to Peter. "Can you wait outside their room? If Luke and Arthur stop fighting and make up, then you can unlock the door, but not until then, okay? Here's the key." He tossed it over. "Emil will take over in, like, ten minutes, then we can both work on something else together, 'kay?"

"Sweet!" Peter shouted. "I won't let you down!"

"Okay, go on then. I've got to fix Emil's face."

"Got it!" And with that, he was off.

* * *

_To whom it may concern:_

_You're probably aware by now that both Emil and I are involved in this – though I get most of the credit for the idea._

"Here he draws a crude smiley face sticking its tongue out," Arthur added in, far too formal for a description of a ':P' face.

Matthias actually started laughing, replying, "Thanks for that important information."

But, seeing as no one else was laughing, and people were starting to stare, Mat took the nonverbal queue and decided to shut up.

_It's also probably pretty obvious that yes, you're trapped in here._

_But you don't know why, do you?_

"Well, is he going to tell us?" Tino interrupted, patience waring faster than cotton socks in a moth-infested closet.

"I hope so," Lukas replied. "What the fuck could all of us done to explain this?"

_Here's the deal. Arthur and Lukas have been fighting for far to long-_

"Not long enough, in my opinion," Arthur muttered under his breath.

_-and we have decided it's time to give an ultimatum:_

_Either Luke and Art make up in this room, before their performances, or they're locked in here until the concert ends and the prize is awarded._

_You have about two hours left. Your time starts now._

_~Leon and Emil_

For a moment, everyone was silent, reflecting upon the sheer impossibility of this task, as well as the gravity of the consequences if they failed.

Then Arthur let out an enraged growl, and crumpled the note up, throwing it haphazardly to be forgotten about. "Are you kidding me?"

"Wow," Tino mused, still stunned by this whole affair. "Who knew they were so bothered by that?"

Berwald remained calm and collected (as he always did), taking a more moderate approach to the issue. "S'pose 't makes sense. They're best friends, 'n' their brothers hate each other."

"And for good reason," Arthur shot back venomously. "Lukas is a whiny bitch."

Surprisingly, Francis actually cleared his throat, retorting, "Says the one who cheated on his boyfriend with someone they didn't even want to go out with."

Lukas found nothing good to say except, "You... Stole my line, Francis."

"Cheated on you?" Matthias asked, perplexed but not necessarily disbelieving. "Arthur told me that you broke up with him because you lost interest."

"Me too," Ivan added.

All eyes were on Arthur, some confused and some accusatory.

None were eager to show sympathy except for Alfred.

So, having been corned, he resorted to some of his weaker defenses. "Technically, you did break up me!"

"Fuck you," Lukas shot back, now cornering him physically as well and lifting him up by the collar. "You cheated on me! What were you expecting? Forgiveness? Not from me, sugar."

Arthur's lips curled into a playful smirk. "Oh, so now you're calling me sugar again."

"Except now," he scythed derisively, "I'm in a position where I could easily snap your neck. Watch who you're talking shit to."

"Like I couldn't take you in a fight," Arthur snarled.

That's when Mat, unsure of how exactly to help, interjected with, "Luke could take me in a fight!"

"Mat, shut up right now," Luke replied, though he couldn't deny how endearing his boyfriend's remark had been. Either way, it distracted him enough to drop Arthur, though his hands were still silenced into fists at his sides. "This is my battle."

"Battle?" Arthur scoffed. "Such a dignified word for such a lowly little wanker."

"Have you run out of good insults? They seem to be getting less intelligent as time goes on."

"I don't see you even trying to call me any names, you idiotic hog monkey."

No one was amused by his lame comeback.

Lukas had a smarter response. "That's because I'm not seven years old. But I guess that hasn't stopped you, now has it?"

Arthur swore he heard someone whispering "ooh, burn" under their breath.

He lost his weak footing, searching the depths of his brain for a good thing to say. "Well, I... I... Well, I think you should put your money where your mouth is! Go on, slap me!"

"Okay," Lukas said, smacking Arthur's cheek almost automatically.

"God, Luke..." Arthur whispered, feigning severe pain.

"What?" Luke asked. "Already giving up?"

"No, it's just that..." Then he lifted the façade, standing at his full height. "Well, you hit like a girl, and I don't think it would be fair to fight someone so-"

He was interrupted by a powerful fist to the jaw that left him staggering.

"That's more like it," Arthur spat.

"You gonna hit me back? Or just stand there?"

Well, that was more than enough to convince Arthur to hit back.

Neither thought of how counterproductive such a fistfight was.

* * *

"So they're the last act in the show, huh?" Ms. Andersen asked Mr. Oxenstierna as they both parused the program of events.

He nodded. "Guess so."

"This is so exciting!" she cried, barely containing her excitement. Her son was participating in a Battle of the Bands concert – who knew? "I wonder if they'll win."

Mr. Oxenstierna smiled at her, noting the endearing way she tapped her feet to the current song by some mediocre group (Axis Powers? Yeah, that sounded right). "Hope so. They're amazing, but they've always been rivals with another band here."

"I guess we'll see then, won't we?" she replied saucily, making it clear that she had no doubts regarding the outcome of the concert. It was Matthias, and Matthias never lost.

"Yeah," he replied, and he was just thinking of turning his attention back to the concert when Line pulled him in for a kiss.

Needless to say, she was a great kisser, and though this wasn't exactly the ideal time or place for a kiss, it couldn't have felt more right to him.

Maybe he wasn't too late for romance after all. Berwald would be proud.

* * *

After wrestling for a few minutes, Lukas finally found himself pinned to the floor and unable to get up.

"You filthy whore!" Arthur shouted, face mere centimeters from his own. "I can't believe I ever liked you!"

Had Luke's mouth not been covered by Arthur's hand, he might've given a dignified argument, but instead he just let out an offended grunt.

Then Arthur kneed him in the stomach, effectively silencing his muffled complaints. "You... Why are you always so fucking perfect? You get the best grades, the best friends, fuck, you even got the boyfriend you wanted! And all without trying! Do you even know what I would give to be you?!"

Somewhere within this monologue, Arthur because distracted enough to uncover Luke's mouth and loosen his hold on him, allowing him to reply, "Me? The awkward punk loner? If you're aspiring to be me, then you need to get your life in check."

"You didn't even have any parents to disappoint!" Arthur cried out, as if he hadn't even heard him.

Lukas almost wanted to laugh. "Or feed me, or help me-"

"Oh, shut it!" he shot back venomously, tightening his grip again (though he left Lukas' mouth free). "Like you've ever needed help, Lukas Bondevik! Like you've ever had a hard time doing anything! Even if we do get out there, even with your guitarist's fingers broken, you're gonna fucking win because you've never known anything but success, you dick!"

There was complete silence for a moment, then Luke shook his head. "You're crazy."

"Am I?!" he demanded, tone suggesting nothing but pure insanity. "I never loved you, Lukas. I could never love you, no matter how much I wanted to. And you know why? Because I was jealous of you and your stupid unwarranted success."

"Arthur, are you crying?" Lukas asked, because apparently the tears rolling down Arthur's face and the waver in his voice hadn't made that clear.

"Fuck you," he spat, unwilling to admit to the obvious.

Lukas cocked his head to one side, thoroughly perplexed. "Is this really how you've felt about me this whole time?"

Arthur didn't respond.

"Bro, you've gotta be kidding me," he scoffed. "You've been out to get for for, how long? Almost two years? Just because you were jealous of me? You're more of an imbecile than I thought."

Finally, Arthur released him entirely, opting to turn away from Lukas, continuing to give him the cold shoulder.

"Look, I'm sorry," Lukas said after a beat of silence. "But really, you've done so much to try to hurt me... It's sort of funny to think that this was all over jealousy. Wanna call it even and just move on?"

"Move on?!" he shouted indignantly, clenching his fists to fight again. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

But before he could initiate any sort of violence, Alfred stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Artie, he's got a point."

He faltered. "I... I know, but..."

"You're too stubborn?" Mat filled in for him. "Trust me, I feel. Luke's kind of a jerk. But look at it this way: if he's on your good side, he'll be slightly less of a jerk."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "That's very reassuring."

"C'mon, Arthur, what's even the point anymore?" Yao added. "Ivan and Tino aren't even fighting anymore. That's a major accomplishment, by their standards."

"He's right," Ivan said.

"I... Fine." And finally, he held out his hand in front of Luke. "Truce?"

"Truce," Lukas repeated as he shook his hand. "Well, after tonight. We're still kicking ass tonight."

"You're on."

And with that, the distinct sound of clicking came from the door, and suddenly it opened, revealing none other than Emil.

"I was waiting for you two to kiss and make up," he sassed in greeting, hands on his hips and a smirk playing at his lip. "Allies, you're on in about fifteen. Get out there."

* * *

The Allies' performance was truly stunning, a brilliant cover of a "God Save the Queen" by the Sex Pistols followed by their best original work, which featured an impressive bass solo from Francis and an intricite and well-executed drum part.

Arthur walked offstage feeling accomplished, and he congratulated each one of his band members on a job well done as they regrouped in the green room.

Emil observed all this, realizing with a shock that they were finally up.

It was time to rock.

Dear god, he couldn't do it nope nope nope abort mission bad shit right there jesus fuck no abort abort-

"Emil, are you alright?" Tino asked, one hand on Emil's shoulder.

"I'm... lowkey freaking out," he replied with a nervous laugh.

Tino smiled kindly at him. "Well, at least you look the part. Leon did great with your makeup. And none of us are mad at you anymore (except maybe Lukas); your method was questionable, but it definitely worked, and now we're just gonna have fun out there, right?"

He took a deep breath. "Yeah. Fun. Right. Totally not scared to sing in public for the first time ever in my life definitely not."

Mat suddenly popped up in front of him. "Everything's set to go! You ready yet?"

"One sec, Mat," Tino cut in. "He needs to calm down first."

"Shit, you got a case of stage fright?" Matthias asked, waiting for Emil to give an affirmative nod before he continued. "That's no good! Ummm... You'll do great, bro! Don't worry, you sound awesome, and you look pretty killer too!"

"I- I know I just..."

"Butterflies?" Luke asked, and it had to be the most frilly word he'd ever said in his life.

Emil could do nothing but nod.

He nodded in understanding. "Here's the deal: once you're out there, you're King of the World. Anything you say goes, the louder the better, and you can do no wrong. Got it?"

So this was how Lukas channeled his peri-concert adrenaline rushes? Actually, it sounded kinda fun. "Got it."

Lukas went on, leaning down until their eyes were level with each other (damn him for being half a foot taller than him). "If no one claps, it's because they're in awe of your awesomeness. If anyone boos, they're just your inpudent subjects and deserve no opinion anyway. Got it?"

"Got it," he said, brows furrowing in determination, and though his hands were still shaking slightly, he could mask it with clenched fists just like Lukas always did.

Wait, never mind, ouch ouch ouch, broken fingers, right. He could clench his right hand into a fist though, and that was good enough.

His brother nodded. "Good. You ready now?"

"I think so."

"Awesome. Let's go!"

* * *

The minute Line saw Mat walk out, she started cheering loudly and embarrassingly (but at least she was self-aware. As an embarrassing mom, self-awareness was vital).

Either way, he didn't seem to hear her, what with the rest of the auditorium applauding as well.

Tino came on next, plugging his guitar into the amp onstage and languidly checking to make sure it was still in tune as Berwald came on as well and did the same.

Next was Lukas, confident as ever, but the guitar in his hand was an unusual sight, and the students in the audience seemed to falter slightly.

Where... was... Emil Bondevik?

Suddenly, just as the crowd was ready to question or freak out or voice their fears, out came a short boy with a shock of platninum hair that really just looked white under the bright stage lights, microphone in hand.

"Hah! Thought I was a no-show, didn't ya?" he asked as confidently as he could manage, which was more than enough for the crowd to go wild.

"Okay, okay, okay," he yelled out at the audience, quickly silencing them. "I know what you're all thinking. Why's Lukas not singing? Who gave Emil a microphone? What the hell is going on? And I don't know how many of you can see from so far away, but if you'll look really closely, you'll notice that my hand is kinda out of commision. So, I'm gonna try singing, and it's gonna be amazing, okay? What you should worry about are Luke's guitar skills – he's way out of practice."

Everyone cheered, so he assumed that he'd done well enough. He announced the first song, and from there, everything went so quickly that Emil really couldn't keep track of what was going on. The adrenaline pulsing through his veins was almost overwhelming, and all he could think to do was continue singing and shouting and bantering with the audience until their fifteen-minute segment was over and he was drenched in sweat, eyeliner streaked across his face like warpaint.

When they finally struck the last chord, Mat adlibbing just a bit too flashily and Emil screaming at the top of his lungs, the audience was going crazy, and he smirked.

Success.

He thanked everyone, voice hoarse, and then relunctantly made his way offstage again, his bandmates – his _friends_ patting him on the back and complimenting him.

They had won... That had to be a win, right?

It sure felt like a win.

Elizabeta, the MC for the evening, came back onstage, ready to announce the winners.

The rest of the bands had gathered backstage in eager anticipation, completely silent for once in their sad, short lives.

"Alright, those were all wonderful performances!" she complimented ever-so-politely. "But the judges have all voted, and we have..."

One could hear a pin drop, it was so quiet.

"In third place, the Allies!"

Applause. The band came out, waving and making a fuss as expected.

Clearly, they'd done well.

But they hadn't won. No, that was all them. The Nordic Five had this in the bag.

"In second place..."

And again, the crowded auditorium was completely silent. One could cut the tension in the room with a knife.

"The Nordic Five!"

…

Uh...

What?

Second place? Them?

… Were they sure?

Either way, Emil automatically walked out, trailing behind the rest of the band.

But everyone else seemed happy, so he supposed it was for the best that he smiled and looked proud of himself.

Luke actually kissed Mat onstage, which was... Slightly disgusting? But meh, the audience seemed to like it, so whatever. They were allowed to be romantic. They were dating.

"And the winner is..."

_Those little fucks who will be dead in the morning,_ Emil thought before quickly reprimanding himself for contemplating murder.

"The Axis Powers!"

"_Fuck yeah_!" cried Gilbert Beilschmidt, the drummer that had been turned down by both the Allies and the Nordic Five, who had apparently just won the Battle of the Bands concert.

No, the irony was not lost upon Emil. He got it. He didn't like it, but he got it.

All five members came on, collected their shitty-ass cash prize, and the audience clapped some more before they called it a night.

Emil was dissapointed, but not unsatisfied. He'd gotten second place, which was at least better than their rival band.

That, and that was totally rigged. Ludwig, the band's bassist, and Kiku, the keyboardist, were some of the school's top students, and both Feliciano (lead guitar) and Lovino (vocals) were both prodigious classical music students and Mr. Edelstein loved babying them (well, as much as Mr. Edelstein ever babyed anyone).

So, as it turned out, it was all a waste. Whatever. He'd clearly put on a good show.

And if nothing else, the rehearsal process had brought his brother much closer to Matthias in the end, despite all its kinks.

Which was definitely a good thing, even if they'd just _had_ to kiss onstage.

* * *

Mat was putting on his winter coat as he walked, nearing the door to exit the building with the rest of the band when he heard a shrill and familiar voice ring out through the hallway. "Matthias!"

He swiveled around on his feet. "Mom?" he asked, too confused to even be angry.

Sure enough, his mom was running toward him, random awkward Swede in tow, a smile at her bright red lips. "You did awesome tonight! I saw you out there!"

"I guess you did, didn't you?" he asked as impassively as he could manage, jaw squaring and mouth pulling into a frown. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm on a date!" she replied, to Mat's confusion. "Oh yeah, you haven't met him yet! This is Viggo Oxenstierna!"

"Oxen... Berwald's dad?" He gawked, turning to Berwald, who was beside him.

Ber nodded. "Mhm."

Matthias furrowed his brow. "Our parents are dating?"

"Wasn't my choice."

"I... Okay then. Hey, I'll catch you guys later, I think I need to talk with my mom in private, alright?"

Tino made a vague comment about his mom making cookies and possibly having hot chocolate, and in an instant the band was gone.

Mr. Oxenstierna had decided to give them all a ride, leaving Matthias alone with his mother.

"You can't possibly approve of all this," he remarked, disbelieving. This had to be fake, right? His mom couldn't like any of this.

She still smiled, but it had mellowed into a softer expression, eyes staring into his with nothing but sincerity and earnestness. "I was never bothered that you did all that stuff. I just wanted you to tell me. Sure, you boyfriend seems a little, well, unorthodox, but that doesn't mean he's bad. I just wish you would make me a big enough part of your life that you trust me with this stuff. Berwald tells his dad all about the band and his love life. Why can't you?"

"I guess I was just self-concious," he replied. "This is all kinda new to me too, and I didn't think you'd like it since I've always been sort of a nerd."

His mom laughed. "You're still a nerd; you can't change that. C'mon, Mat, you wore a bowtie to a concert."

Matthias couldn't deny that much. "You have a point... Um, so, can I move back in, or...? Because Luke's house is nice and all, but he really can't afford to house three people."

"Of course you can!" she exclaimed. "And Luke can come over anytime!"

"I..." he choked up, tears threatening to fall even though he was still in a public place. "Have you always been this amazing?"

"Have you ever tried to find out?" she replied, and Mat decided to take that as a 'yes'.

Finally, the tears started to fall, and he wrapped his arms around his mom, hiding his face in her shoulder. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too." She patted him on the back, and waited long enough for him to regain command over his emotions. Finally, she motioned to the door. "Now come on: Tuuli Väinämöinen invited everyone over for cookies after the concert, and Viggo told me she's a pretty good baker. We'd better go before they're all gone."

With that, they set off to enjoy the rest of the night.

Matthias had finally found his family.

And it wasn't just his band – it was his mother too.

* * *

_"In loving memory_

_Of your demise"_

~ "Ha Ha You're Dead", _Shenanigans_, Green Day


	23. Epilogue: The Ocean on a Clear Night

_Cleaning out the attic has always been Lukas' favorite chore – he and Matthias always manage to find something interesting together._

_Memories are bound to build up over the course of five years._

_So much has changed._

_Line Andersen ended up marrying Viggo Oxenstierna, making Berwald Mat's step-brother._

_Emil is a sophomore in college, getting his music degree._

_Tino and Berwald own a small pastry shop._

_No one goes to band rehearsals anymore._

_Lukas has long since grown out his side-shave in place of a more conservative haircut, just as Mat traded in his stupid bow ties for something more practical and less of a novelty._

_Both of their quirks, however, remain intact._

_Lukas still spends his evenings writing music and doing advanced mathematics while listening to hardcore punk._

_Matthias still bangs away on his drums, and studies as hard as ever as he works on his classical history major._

_His boyfriend, an economics major, reminds him that classical history majors have an incredibly low average starting salary._

_Then Matthias tells him to go fuck himself, which would end up much, well, steamier than either one intended._

_But this particular day, Luke wants to clean out the attic, to look through their old memories, to recall their shaky but impassioned beginnings._

_Matthias obliges, and soon they're both sifting through old clothes, and Luke is laughing lightly as Mat asks whether he'll wear his torn skinny jeans again._

_"The day I do that is the day I put my septum piercing back in," he replies as a fancy way of saying 'hell no', because his piercings haven't survived adulthood either._

_Luke asks Mat why they have a framed photo of the time he finally got an 8192 tile on 2048, and they both smile as they remember how stupid that day was._

_Initially, Lukas had said no to him when he asked for a picture of the event. 'Just take a screenshot,' he had said, but he snapped a picture anyway._

_Apparently, it was such an important relic that it had kept for five years._

_His boyfriend doesn't respond to the question; he has found something more interesting._

_"Holy fuck, how old is this thing? It has a cassette player!"_

_Lukas smirks – everything's going according to plan._

_"Wanna play something on it?"_

_Mat gawks. "Are you sure it'll work?"_

_He makes a show of walking over to the bin of old cassette tapes, but he the one he really wants is in his pocket (not that he wants Matthias to know that). "Won't know until we try," he replies as he hands him the tape._

_Then, without further argument, Matthias plugs the cassette player in and puts the tape in place._

_It starts with the sound of shuffling, of adjustment, of unsureness._

_Everything suddenly goes silent, but soon enough, a voice cuts through – Lukas' voice, but he's five years younger and five years less experienced._

_"Hey, Mat," he greets, totally lovestruck, as subtle as he tried to make it._

_"I, uhh... Well, I'm not as good at this as Emil and Tino are, but I wanted to write you a song and, well..."_

_There's a pause. In the present, Mat looks at Lukas, who's blushing up to his ears, even after all these years._

_"Look, this song sucks balls, okay? There's no way I'm ever showing this to you, but I... I just need to record this to get it off my chest. Wish me luck."_

_More shuffling and adjusting, then all falls dead silent again._

_The first note is a D, and with a start Mat realizes that Luke's trying to play the piano._

_Four measures go by, all low notes, peaceful and smooth and dark as the ocean on a windless day._

_When the right hand comes in, everything grows hauntingly beautiful, and Mat's surprised of Luke's capacity to play something so delicate._

_The storm of the first parts resolves and suddenly turns cheerful but almost melancholy as the chorus begins, and suddenly he understands._

_It's bubbly, bright, rhythmic, but almost sad... Just like Matthias._

_On the other hand, the 'verse' section (was that what he was supposed to call it?) is dark and mysterious and deep like Lukas._

_The two parts bounce off each other disjointedly for a good portion of the piece as Lukas slowly draws closer to Matthias back in the present, wrapping a reluctant arm around him._

_Sixteen year-old Luke's fingers stutter and trip over themselves as he transitions into the bridge, but then he pulls it together, the light and Matthias-style bass line meeting the dark and Lukas-like treble lines, moving in an uncannily perfect harmony before switching back to the chorus section and fading to a quiet but gorgeous ending._

_The tape cuts off – that's all that's been recorded on it – and Mat turns to Lukas again, ready to tell him just how spectacular he thought the song was._

_Instead, he sees a lovely golden wedding band, held up in front of his face. Lukas says nothing for the simple reason that there is nothing to be said._

_"Yes," Mat replies to the unspoken question as soon as he can comprehend the meaning in all this. "Of course."_

_"I love you," Lukas said._

_Their differences had always been vast – the straight-laced geek and the rebel punk, the outgoing social butterfly and the asocial introvert, a warm, brilliant flame and cool, flowing water._

_But more amazing was the shocking number of similarities between the two. Both caring, both intelligent, and both in need of love._

_They were only complete as one, as bandmates, as friends, as lovers, and as husbands._

_"I love you too," Mat replied, and in that very moment, that was all that mattered._


End file.
